


How to Lose a Drug Lord in 365 Days

by amreekiyakasuula



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28663020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amreekiyakasuula/pseuds/amreekiyakasuula
Summary: AU starting in the middle of Face Off
Relationships: Gustavo Fring/Jesse Pinkman
Comments: 22
Kudos: 50





	1. July

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter of a Breaking Bad rom-com (???), low on comedy, even lower on romance. But I'm adding pop song lyrics to make up for that.
> 
> I watched Breaking Bad/BCS for the first time over the summer, and some details have gotten fuzzy since then. I re-watched parts of Face Off before writing this, but sorry if anything's inconsistent with the show. (I mean, everything I'm going to write is inconsistent with the show, but..)
> 
> Also, apparently the writers discussed that maybe Walter had poisoned Brock at school, so that's what I went with here.

_Why’re men great till they gotta be great?_

-Lizzo

***

There was a knock at the door. 

“Yes. Come in.”

Cynthia only opened the office door halfway, as if that would somehow make the interruption less inconvenient, and said, “I’m so sorry to bother you, but… both Martin and Felicia called out today, there’s a huge line, and this one woman is going ballistic about an expired coupon I won’t let her use- it’s total chaos. Is there any chance you could help out on the floor for a minute?”

Gustavo Fring sat seated at his desk, where he had been waiting for Tyrus’s call. There were certain times when Gus wished he could sit Cynthia down and tell her he was in charge of the largest drug empire in the American southwest. If that were possible, she might take his “do not disturb” memos _slightly_ more seriously. Normally, he never let matters related to his illicit business affect how he interacted with his restaurant employees, but today it was a challenge. As he responded, he did his best to keep his tone pleasant. “I’m afraid now is not a good time. Please make some calls to see who can fill in. And honor the woman’s coupon.” 

Only a few moments after Cynthia left his office, his phone rang. Tyrus had inspected Hector’s room at the nursing home, and he reported that he had found nothing out of the ordinary. Before Gus could hang up, Tyrus added, “Maybe, uh, I should do this.” His voice was slightly hesitant, but the fact that he had made the offer at all told Gus that Tyrus felt something was off, even if he had found nothing concrete to suggest it. Gus began to deny the offer, but then paused. It was true- there was something not quite right about the situation. Although Gus could attest to the fact that Hector had no moral code to speak of, no cartel member would debase himself so much as to speak to the DEA. The only possible explanation would be that the murder of the last of Hector’s family had finally pushed him to do what until that point had been unthinkable. But if that were the case, that Hector had spoken to the DEA as a form of retaliation, wouldn’t there have been DEA agents contacting Gus for questioning immediately?

For Hector to die at another man’s hands, without Gus even present, seemed unacceptable. It was almost unbearably anticlimactic. But then… from Hector’s perspective, the worst moment of his existence must have been when Gus had told him that the Salamanca name would die with him. At this point, wouldn’t Hector welcome death? The climax of his torture of Hector had already occurred. Perhaps it was better to show Hector that he was worth so little that Gus had sent one of his men to end his life, just another errand to check off a list.

***

“Hey, I better hear them click.” 

After passing him the handcuffs, one of the thugs who had been guarding Jesse as he cooked went to go check who had entered the lab. Jesse tried to pinpoint exactly where he had gone so wrong in his life that he was now handcuffing himself to a chemical tank in an underground meth lab, and about a million nightmarish moments from the past year flew through his mind at once. When he looked up, Gus was walking towards him. _Shit._ He had known it was unlikely Mr. White would be able to immediately come up with some miraculous new plan to kill Gus. But he’d had some hope. After all, Mr. White had an uncanny ability to get himself out of even the most desperate circumstances. 

“Walter White dies. Today.” Each word was a shard of ice, although Gus’s expression remained neutral. Jesse noticed he was wearing a dark purple suit, slightly more dramatic than his typical apparel. Almost as if he had dressed for the impending occasion of Mr. White’s death. He drew close to Jesse, and grabbed his face with one hand, digging into the flesh and twisting him so that their eyes locked. “Today Walter made an attempt on my life. And you assisted him.”

Jesse spit directly into his face. Gus didn’t flinch, just wiped the moisture away with the back of his hand. Jesse knew it was a pretty weak show of aggression considering he’d seen the same man stand calmly while blood splattered into his face from a slit throat. But there wasn’t much else he could do in his current position. Jesse could feel his own breathing constricted by rising panic, but he tried not to let it show as he yelled, “What the fuck did you expect when you threatened to kill him and his entire family? Where is he? You said he dies today- he’s still alive, right?”

“He is alive. But he is being held by one of my men who will shoot him in the skull as soon as I give the order. Apprehending him was not difficult, as he was driving to this location.”

Jesse could feel his head spinning. Why would Mr. White have been coming here if he knew Gus was still alive? “I don’t- what happened? What did he try to do?”

Gus paused, looking skeptical of Jesse’s ignorance, and then said, “He planted a bomb at Casa Tranquila. Hector had spoken to the DEA, and needed to die. I’m sure Walter believed only I would take on that responsibility, but I sent Tyrus instead, who was killed. I imagine since Hector knew he was going to die either way, he decided to at least take one of my men with him, although I don’t know how he was able to activate the bomb. When Walter heard the news on the radio, he must have assumed I was included in the death toll.”

For a moment, Jesse was speechless that Mr. White had come up with such an incredible plan so quickly, just based on the small piece of information about Casa Tranquila that Jesse had passed onto him through Saul. It was only a matter of chance that it hadn’t worked. Then the panic set in again, as he remembered that he was the only thread that held onto Mr. White’s life.

“Nothing’s changed- if you kill him, you lose me. And then, like what, do you think you can hold a gun to my head 24/7?” But as the words left his mouth, Jesse suddenly saw a horrific vision of himself held hostage indefinitely in the lab, hired guards constantly watching over him.

Gus shook his head. “No. You will continue to cook for me because you will be the one to give me permission to order Walter’s death. Think carefully, Jesse. Isn’t it convenient that just as Walter needed you to side with him against me, a child you love comes down with symptoms of a poisoning that could be blamed on me? As I told you, I am on the board of the hospital. Through a contact I have there, I was able to obtain some information on the child’s condition. It turns out he had ingested a plant called lily of the valley.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know it wasn’t the ricin. Just because Mr. White was wrong about that don’t mean I want him dead.”

Gus gave him a tight lipped smile that made Jesse extremely uncomfortable. “Of course not. But as I said, it seemed very convenient. After capturing Walter, I sent someone back over to his house. In his backyard, there was a lily of the valley plant. It was rather careless of him to have left it there, but I suppose he was planning to dispose of it when he returned home.”

Jesse almost could have laughed at such a pathetic attempt at manipulation. “You’ve got to be out of your fucking mind if you expect me to believe that. Even say he did have the same plant, when would he have been able to get to Brock? I mean, Brock’s always with Andrea, her grandmother, or at school, and-” _School._ Since Andrea and Brock had moved, Brock had been attending a new school district. It was the same one Jesse had once gone to. The same one Mr. White had taught at. That didn’t necessarily mean anything, but…

Gus noticed Jesse’s pause. “School? You think Walter could have reached the child there? Isn’t this something the school could possibly confirm for you?”

Jesse felt an encroaching sense of dread. He didn’t want to go any further down this road, but he had to know. “The school won’t give me some information about a kid I’m not even related to. I’ll have to get Andrea to call.”

Jesse pointed out where the thugs had stashed his cell phone, and Gus handed it to him. Jesse flipped open the phone, while Gus watched, standing barely a foot away. “Jesus Christ, give me some space, will you?” After Gus strode a few paces away, Jesse dialed Andrea’s number.

“Jesse?” Andrea answered on the first ring. “I got your message, but you must have missed my call back. Brock’s going to pull through.” She went on to confirm that the poison had come from a plant called lily of the valley.

Jesse took a shaky breath in and out. “Andrea. I have to ask you to do something. Can you call Brock’s school and find out if he had any visitors there? Before he got sick?”

“I don’t understand. Why would- is this something to do with him getting sick?”

“No, no. It’s just-” Andrea couldn’t find out Jesse might be partially responsible for Brock’s poisoning. She would never forgive him. He frantically searched for another explanation to give her. “It’s just, that guy who’s been giving me some trouble lately, Mr. White, we’ve been on bad terms lately, but he’s been obsessed with getting a hold of me. He probably thought I’d already told you not to speak to him, but maybe he thought he could get a message to me through Brock. Uh, I guess something he said made me think he might’ve tried that.”

“Jesse, that’s insane. You think this man would actually try to contact you using Brock? And I don’t think the school would just let a random man go into the building and talk to Brock. You must have misunderstood. But I can call tomorrow if it will make you feel better.”

“It has to be now, just- please. Trust me, this is important.”

Something in his voice must have convinced Andrea of the urgency of the matter. Jesse waited for her to call back. It was only about ten minutes before his phone rang, but it felt like an hour.

“Jesse? Oh my God, I can’t believe it.” The fury in Andrea’s voice made him go cold. “I spoke to the secretary at Brock’s school. Apparently, a man named White _did_ come to see Brock, to drop a lunch or something off for him. She even showed him where the classroom was, but Brock was out for gym class when they got there, so at least he didn’t have the chance to talk to him. I mean what the fuck was she thinking? But she said she knew the guy really well. I guess she worked with him at the high school before she started at the elementary school, so-”

Jesse cut her off. “Andrea, I have to go.” Jesse looked towards Gus, who had been listening to Jesse’s side of the conversation. The expression on Jesse’s face must have made Andrea’s response obvious enough.

“I take it that I now have your permission to make the call?”

Jesse’s whole body was shaking. His vision was blurring, and he felt nauseous, like he was going to faint. That’s exactly what he needed. To faint while handcuffed to a tank, and with Gus Fring standing over him. 

“No. You think just because I want Mr. White to pay, I’m on your side now? I’ll kill the bastard myself. I was going to- I was going to do it but- God, I had the gun pointed at his head, why didn’t I just-” 

“Jesse, even if circumstances were different, and Walter wasn’t already in captivity, it would be highly inadvisable for you to take matters into your own hands. Even the most highly trained professionals sometimes encounter… _obstacles_ in these cases. This is something I have learned through personal experience. In any case, this is the only way. Give me the word.”

The rage that had been surging through Jesse’s entire body was suddenly replaced with a total and all-encompassing exhaustion. “Fine. Do it. _Do it,_ okay? Fuck both of you. I’m done giving a shit.”

Gus picked up his phone.

***

Gus did not receive any pleasure from ordering Walter White’s death. At best, he felt a dull relief. He remembered bitterly how confident he had been at one point that theirs would be a longstanding and advantageous partnership. After putting the phone away, he looked back over towards Jesse. The boy had a vacant, slightly slackened look on his face as if he had been given a sedative. It would be difficult to negotiate anything with him in this condition, but Gus had to be sure that he would return to work.

“Jesse, I would prefer you return to work tomorrow of your own accord, rather than employing those two again to escort you.” He nodded towards the two men standing idly on the other side of the lab, who had kidnapped him earlier that day.

“Or what? You’ll finish the job Mr. White started with Brock, you sick fuck?” Jesse’s voice was low and uneven, as if forming any words at all was an effort.

Gus considered for a few moments. Making a threat on the lives of the woman and her son would be the easiest way to secure Jesse’s compliance in the short term. However, he had a feeling that if he wanted Jesse to remain in his employment for the long term, it was not a wise course to take. Finally he said, “Do you think I would kill a child?”

“Why the hell would I think that? You only ordered those dealers to kill Tomas. And threatened to do the same to Mr. White’s family.”

“I never made that order. As much as I would like to control the actions of every single person I employ on every tier of this organization, there are instances when individuals act without my consent. I would have dealt with them accordingly. As for Walter, he left me with little choice. But I would not have necessarily acted on those threats. I try to avoid involving those outside this business when at all possible.”

Jesse didn’t look completely convinced, but there was some truth to what he had said. It was not the case that Gus had never harmed an innocent in his life. But that had been under a different name, on a different continent, in another century. During that period in his life, he had learned that there was no atrocity that could not be justified to oneself. There was no line that could not be crossed, because the line could be ever shifted, like a strip of land eroded by an advancing shore line as the tide came in. Since leaving the military, he had attempted, not without failures, to keep that line in a more firmly fixed position. If he ceased to make that attempt, he could see no reason he should not have died with Don Eladio or Hector.

“And Mr. White’s brother-in-law?” Jesse said warily. “I know he got himself involved in all this shit, but look, Mr. White showing up dead, it’s already suspicious. How’s it gonna look if the guy who’s been looking into you turns up dead the same week?”

Gus inwardly agreed with this assessment, but he needed some kind of leverage over Jesse. “I will hold off on making a decision about Schrader if you continue to report to work for the rest of this week and the next. Finish out the rest of the month. Then we can discuss this further.”

Jesse was quiet for so long that Gus began to think he would refuse to respond. But then, he nodded.


	2. August

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's too cold to go outside.. They closed the food court at the mall.. That's basically my justification for writing this thing.

_I want your horror, I want your design_   
_Cause you’re a criminal as long as you’re mine_

-Lady Gaga

***

When the alarm went off, Jesse swiped at the clock, and knocked it off the bedside table. It went skittering across the floor without switching off. Despite the blaring noise, and the August morning light assaulting his eyes through the blinds, getting out of bed seemed so far out of the realm of possibility that someone might as well have asked him to teleport to work. Jesse fantasized for a moment about living in a reality where he could just call up his boss and ask to take a sick day. But then, if that were his reality, he wouldn’t be having these sleepless nights in the first place.

At work, Jesse could more or less empty his mind and go through the motions. When he got home, after he called Andrea to check in on her and Brock, he would switch on the TV and stare at it for hours, not exactly registering what he was watching, just letting the words flow through his head and work as a buffer to his own thoughts. But at night, the argument he’d been having with himself for the past two weeks would start up all over again.

_He tried to kill Brock. He deserved to die._

_Brock recovered, didn’t he? Mr. White was a chemist. He knew the exact dose to use so Brock would live._

_But there was no way he could have guaranteed that one hundred percent, right? The point is, he risked a child’s life to manipulate you._

_You could have just turned him in to the DEA. But you didn’t, because then you would end up in prison too. You ended a person’s life for your own sake, no one else’s…_

This back and forth would go on for hours into the night. As he tossed and turned, tangled up in sheets drenched with sweat, he swore the ticking of the clock would become louder as the night went on. At 11:00, it sounded like a regular clock, but by 3:00 in the morning, it was like someone was rhythmically knocking a hammer against his skull. He didn’t know how a ticking clock could sound like it was taunting him, but it had gotten to the point where he found himself viscerally resenting an inanimate object.

In the rare hours that he did drift off to sleep, he was still restless. He would dream about Mr. White’s wife finding out that Jesse was the one who had signed off on her husband’s death. He still remembered the concern in her voice when she had thought Jesse was selling Mr. White pot, when that had been her most pressing problem. Jesse had never met Mr. White’s son, but he would appear in his dreams as well, a vague form stricken with grief. Jesse knew that the kid was still in high school. To lose his father so suddenly at that age would affect him for the rest of his life. 

Jesse eventually managed to drag himself out of bed. He wondered if today would be the day that Gus would show up. It was already well into the first week of August, but he still hadn’t heard anything from him. Jesse was beginning to worry that Gus had no intention of holding any further discussion regarding his continued employment. Gus could decide to continue to hold the potential murder of Hank Schrader over him. Jesse had no love for Schrader, but he didn’t want to be responsible for his death. _Jane, Gale, Mr. White…_ The last thing Jesse needed to do was add another name to that list.

***

Gus locked the door, and selected one of the spare button-down shirts and suit jackets he left in his office to change into whenever he needed to travel somewhere directly from Los Pollos Hermanos. It wasn’t strictly necessary today. Besides going to see Jesse at the lab, he didn’t have any other engagements for the afternoon. But even on days when he barely left his office, somehow the scent of grease seemed to cling to his clothing, and he had found it was generally preferable to enter into any negotiation without smelling of fast food.

Jesse had reported to work on time every morning so far, but it was an open question whether he would continue to do so, even if Gus maintained the use of Schrader’s life as a bargaining chip. There was no reason to have Schrader taken out at this point. Since the fruitless search at the laundry, there had been no further attempts at investigation, and the fallout from Walter’s disappearance had not been as problematic as Gus had been expecting. He had been monitoring the situation closely, and it appeared that Walter had fed Schrader a story about a gambling addiction, which provided a possible narrative for the circumstances which may have led to him getting in over his head with the wrong people.

Even if Gus had no actual intention of removing Schrader, there was nothing preventing him from implying to Jesse that the DEA agent’s life was still dependent on Jesse’s continued attendance to work. But something about this method of control felt less than satisfactory. To begin with, Gus wasn’t sure that Jesse’s concern for the man’s life was strong enough to motivate him more than temporarily. Even putting that aside, Gus still held the statement he had once made to Mike regarding fear and motivation to be true. In certain situations, methods of intimidation were unavoidable. But ultimately, fear was not the most effective motivator. It made people unpredictable. In this business, he needed reliability.

***

“How are you, Jesse?” Gus noticed that the boy had dark circles under his eyes, but looked more in control of his faculties than the last time they had spoken.

“Fan-fucking-tastic. Really living the dream,” he responded flatly. 

“Considering you are performing minimal labor for more money than most people in the world will see in their entire lives, I would have to concur.” It was less than thirty seconds into the conversation, and Gus was already beginning to lose patience. It would be best to get through this discussion as succinctly as possible. “For the time being, I have decided to let Schrader live.”

“Yeah? What, so that’s it? You’re not gonna do anything if I tell you I’m done here?” Jesse’s expression was cautious, as if bracing himself for a blow.

“I was hoping you would be open to a compromise of sorts. You will continue to work for me until I find a suitable replacement for you, and you have adequately trained said replacement.”

“And if I say no?”

“You must be able to see the benefits of this arrangement. You will earn more than enough to support the young woman that you care so much for, and her son as well, for the rest of their lives. And your time here would be made more endurable if you knew it was only temporary, correct? Why is it so urgent that you leave now? What would you do with your days if you left?”

Jesse paused, and then shrugged. “Does it matter? Anything’s better than this.”

Gus reached out his hand, and placed it on Jesse’s shoulder. “Please accept this offer. I need you, Jesse.” Gus knew that taking a congenial approach carried the risk of coming off as insincere. But he had known Jesse long enough to understand how deeply he needed to feel valued and desired, and Gus suspected this need was something he could use to his advantage. At Gus’s touch Jesse flinched, but he didn’t step back, which Gus took to be a good a sign.

Jesse sighed, and then asked, “How do I know you won’t just change your mind? About hiring someone new?”

“It’s not in my best interest to have my entire business dependent on someone who might attempt to leave at any moment.”

“And how long’s it gonna take? To find this replacement?”

Gus was relieved at the resignation in Jesse’s voice. He decided it would be best to answer honestly. “That’s difficult to say. It can be challenging to find someone who is both a dependable and competent professional and also willing to enter into work of this nature. And of course, it would be ideal to find someone with a background in chemistry, which further narrows the pool. Approaching outsiders about this work in the first place obviously has its risks.”

“How’d you do it with Gale?”

“It was a long process. Years ago, he was a recipient of a scholarship I had set up for students in the chemistry department at UNM. When the time came to find a cook, I assessed his inclination towards the position by giving him certain minor tasks, such as analyzing the purity of methamphetamine samples, before bringing him fully into the role. With Gale, however, I took certain risks I might not have taken with just anyone. Gale had a certain… _affinity_ for me.”

Jesse looked blank for a moment and then snorted. “What, you think he-? God, you’re pretty fucking arrogant, aren’t you?”

“It’s not arrogance. I’m good at reading people.” He gazed evenly at Jesse, who broke eye contact.

Still avoiding his eyes, Jesse said, “Look, do you ever think to yourself, like, is this really worth all the fucking effort? You can sure as hell afford an early retirement, right? I mean, Jesus, you gotta be turning 65 within the next ten years, so why not just round up and call it a fucking day?”

Gus chose to ignore this outburst. “Do I have your agreement to my proposition, or not?” 

Jesse put his face in his hands and made a troubling groaning sound, but then said, “Yeah. Guess so.”

“Good.” Gus was about to turn to leave when he remembered something. “You might be interested to know that Michael has recovered fully. He will be returning from Mexico shortly.”

“What, really? Mike’s doing okay? That’s- that’s good to hear.”

Gus wasn’t surprised to see the light increase in Jesse’s face. He knew that Mike and Jesse had formed something of a connection. Hopefully Mike’s occasional presence in Jesse’s life would serve as a positive influence. Jesse was still erratic and impulsive, and in need of all the guidance he could possibly get. That being said… he had potential.

***

Jesse sat at Andrea’s kitchen table, finishing off a pizza they had ordered. Brock was at a friend’s house down the road. It had only been a few weeks since he had gotten back from the hospital, and Andrea was still hesitant to let him out of her sight. Jesse had a strong feeling that his cover story about Mr. White trying to speak to Brock had left her even more uneasy, although she hadn’t brought it up again.

The atmosphere had changed between Jesse and Andrea since the lily of the valley incident. Every time he looked at her, he would think about the fact that if she had never met him, then her son wouldn’t have come within a hair’s breadth of death. He kept imagining the expression on her face if he ever told her the truth. And of course, he never _would_ be able to tell her what had really happened. But how could he tolerate treating her with that level of deception? 

Even though Andrea would never know that it was Mr. White who had poisoned Brock, she still must have found it disturbing enough that someone who had been in close association with Jesse had sought out Brock at his school. It went without saying that she must know Jesse was keeping things from her. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had started to feel uncomfortable about their relationship. If she had, would she say something? Jesse had given her the money necessary to move into this house. What if she felt indebted to him, and that kept her from telling him that she wanted to end things? He doubted it… Andrea had always been straightforward about what she was thinking. It was one of the things he liked the most about her. But still, the thought gnawed at him.

“All set with that?” Andrea grabbed his plate. “I want to get these cleaned up so I can go pick up Brock. I know he can walk home from there by himself, but…” She trailed off, switching on the faucet.

Jesse nodded. “Yeah, I get it.” After a brief yet uncomfortable silence, he stood up so he could wipe down the table, and his eyes landed on a decoratively carved wooden cross hanging on the wall. He had noticed a similar one in the living room. “Hey, can I ask you something? Are you, like, religious and shit?”

Andrea shrugged. “I don’t know. I go to mass on Christmas, that kind of thing.”

“But don’t you think it’s kind of bullshit? Like, I mean, that idea that you can do whatever the hell you want, just say you’re sorry, and just like that you get a clean slate?”

“Um. I never really thought about it, Jesse. But I don’t think it’s like a lip service thing. You should have the intention to do better. But, like, sometimes you need to get forgiven first, before you can make any change. Know what I mean?”

He didn’t. It sounded like the same sort of shit they had spouted at those NA meetings. But he nodded anyway. 

Andrea dried her hands with a towel and looked over at Jesse. “Are you okay? You seem a little off. I know it’s been really hard with what happened to Brock and everything. I’m not over it either. I mean, I don’t think I ever will be, completely. But is there anything else going on?”

_I don’t think I ever will be._ The words made his stomach twist with guilt.

“Look, Andrea…” He took her hand. “I really- I care about you and Brock so much. You guys mean more to me than anything. I mean for real, I’m not just saying that. But I just don’t think- I don’t know if-”

Andrea cut him off. “Jesse, stop. I’m not stupid, I know you’ve got some shit going on in your life right now. If you’re not up for all this… I mean, it sucks, but I get it.” She squeezed his hand, and then let it go.

Jesse couldn’t look at her face. “I’m just- shit, I’m so sorry. I wish things were… But hey, I want to keep helping you and Brock out.”

Andrea shook her head. “Jesse that’s… you don’t have to do that. Soon I’m starting that customer service job I was telling you about, and it pays pretty well. They even pay extra if you’re bilingual. And anyway, we’re not your responsibility. You don’t owe us anything.”

_God, you have no idea how much I owe you._ “Please, Andrea. If you won’t take the money for you or Brock, take it for me, okay? Like, to be completely honest with you, I don’t got a lot in my life right now that I can feel okay about, you know what I mean? But that… it’s one thing that makes me feel, you know, good.”

Andrea was quiet for a moment and then said, “Okay. But I have to ask you one thing. Please don’t bring the money over yourself. If Brock sees you around here… It will be confusing for him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I get that. Do you think I could come with you now to pick him up? You know, just see him tonight?”

“Sure Jesse, that’s fine. You can see him tonight.”

They put away the dishes, and then walked out into the summer night.


	3. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should mention some chapters will have really minor BCS references? But I don't think it will reveal major plot points or whatever, if you haven't finished the show.
> 
> Also, if the three hour braising thing sounds familiar, it's because I stole it from the Dinner Party episode of The Office.....

_You’re so damn hard to please, we gotta kill this switch_  
_You’re from the 70s, but I’m a 90s bitch_

-Icona Pop

***

The work was repetitive, and boring as hell, but at least it was a routine. Having a prescribed set of actions to perform each day kept him anchored to reality. It wasn’t that his mind didn’t still drift to thoughts of Andrea and Mr. White, thoughts of what he could have done differently if he could go back in time. But at least he was able to partially drown out these thoughts by solely focusing on whatever task he had at hand, and the music playing in his earbuds. 

When Jesse did have moments of stillness and quiet, a question that had been crossing his mind more frequently was the one that Gus had asked him during his visit to the lab last month. 

_What would you do with your days if you left?_

Money wouldn’t be an issue. But what would he _do?_ If he didn’t have a job, some external structure to hold him accountable, would he just fall into the same patterns that had nearly killed him earlier this year? He didn’t want to think so, but it seemed likely. He remembered that feeling of complete aimlessness, that feeling that nothing that happened to him mattered because he was worth so little to start with. If Jesse stopped working for Gus, he would have to find a place where he could feel useful, at least in some small way.

But how could he do that, when his only skill was cooking 96.2 percent pure meth? Gus had told him that he needed him, but that was just because Jesse happened to be the person Mr. White had partnered up with. That was his only value. It’s not like there was anything inherently special about him, anything that would carry over to another line of work. He hadn’t had the type of job he could put on a resume for years. And what the hell was he supposed to do, ask Gus for a letter of reference?

Jesse was on his lunch break, mulling all of this over, when the phone hanging on the wall began to ring. He set down his tuna sub and went over to answer it.

Gus was on the other end of the line. “I would like to discuss a certain matter of business with you. You will come to my house tomorrow at 6:30. I believe you have the address from the last time,” he said without any preamble.

Jesse groaned, momentarily covering the speaker of the phone so Gus wouldn’t hear, and then said, “Uh, look, are you sure this has to be, like, an in-person type of situation? This isn’t the kind of thing that could be covered in a staff email? I could show you how to set up an Outlook account if you want.”

“Email is an extremely insecure method of communication.”

“It was a joke, relax. But seriously, you can’t just discuss it with me now over the phone? Or stop by here later today?” The next day was a Saturday. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, but that definitely didn’t mean he wanted to spend the evening hanging out at Gus’s house.

“Today is not convenient. It will be better to have this discussion at our leisure over dinner.” There was a click. Gus had hung up without waiting for a response.

Jesse let out a heavy breath. Perfect. Now dinner was involved? The last time Gus had invited him over for dinner it hadn’t exactly ended with wonderful news. 

Jesse put the phone back, and walked over to the table where he had been eating lunch. He still had half a sandwich left, but he tossed it in the trash. He didn’t feel hungry anymore.

***

Mike stood in Gus’s office, where they had been reviewing several possible adjustments to security protocol and expenditures for Los Pollos Hermanos. On paper, Mike was the restaurant chain’s head of corporate security, and in actuality he did occasionally cover certain responsibilities related to the position. Given the events of the past few months, it also didn’t hurt to add more credibility to his supposed role in the establishment, in case a situation ever arose where he was brought in for questioning. Although Schrader had seemingly moved on from his investigation into Fring, the ordeal had left Mike more than a little uneasy. Schrader had struck him as the obsessive type, not someone to let go of a lead even if he met with failure. But perhaps he had decided risking his career wasn’t worth pursuing things independently.

Before leaving, Mike paused for a moment, and then asked, “Have you put any thought into Pinkman’s replacement yet?”

Gus didn’t look up from the reports he was inspecting on his desk. “You know these things take time. And it’s not a crucial matter at this point.”

“It might not be, for now. But everything that’s happened… It seems to be wearing on the kid.” Now that Jesse was the only one working in the lab, he no longer accompanied Mike to drop sites or on other errands as regularly as he had done before. But when Mike did have the occasion to see him, Jesse had a dead eyed look about him that didn’t exactly bode well. Before, Mike had found Jesse’s constant fidgeting and complaining to be irritating. But now, the boy displayed an apathetic calm that Mike found vaguely unsettling. It was like something vital had been drained out of him.

Gus looked up. “Is he using again?”

“No, nothing like that. All I’m saying is, it might be better to get someone else in there sooner than later. Doesn’t necessarily have to be a chemist, does it? Victor learned the basics, and no one even taught him. It was just from observation.” It felt uncomfortable to bring up Victor’s name, but Mike wanted to make the point. Mike had more or less come to terms with the reasoning behind Victor’s murder, but the whole affair still left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I need someone who can maintain the quality we have achieved up until now. If we rush this transition, the reputation we have built will suffer.”

“True. But it’ll suffer even more if Pinkman snaps one day and decides to bolt. I suppose you could always put some resources into increased surveillance on him to help prevent that, but it seems like a better use of time would involve searching for a new hire.” 

Mike could tell from the other man’s expression that he wasn’t doing anything to convince him, so he wasn’t surprised when Gus responded, “I do not wish to discuss this further. Pinkman’s emotional state is not your concern.” He paused, and then continued, “However, it’s not something I’m completely blind to. In fact, I’ve invited him to my home tomorrow to discuss taking on some more responsibility in this business. It will increase his sense of investment in the entire enterprise.”

Mike blinked, unsure how to react. It was clear that Jesse wanted out of this business, and Gus thought it would somehow help to try to rope him in even further? “Is that… the best course of action?” Mike said carefully. “Seems to me it might be better to take it easy on him, not to push him even harder. And isn’t it a waste of your time if he’s eventually leaving?”

“If he feels that he has a future here, he may choose to stay.”

The level of confidence in Gus’s voice was incomprehensible to Mike. To Mike, it was painfully obvious that Jesse was not cut out for this kind of work for the long term. During the confrontation with the cartel, Jesse had proven himself to be capable and resilient, but his life had been at stake. He had done what he had to because he’d had no choice. The kid had a certain vulnerability that Mike didn’t think would be possible to completely harden over. Even if it was possible, he didn’t think he wanted to see it happen.

Gus’s preoccupation with the boy called to mind the way he had once so obsessively held on to Varga against Mike’s advice. But whereas Gus’s fixation on Varga had been a negative one, stemming out of anger, Mike wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from with Jesse. Mike could possibly understand Gus wanting to guide someone into a position to someday succeed him. He wasn’t the type who would be satisfied if he knew everything he had built would crumble after his death. But given that he was still in his fifties, surely he had time to find someone more suited to that role than Jesse? Maybe his brush with death in Mexico had affected him more than he let on.

After a long silence, Mike said, “If that’s what you think.” He decided not to test Gus’s patience by arguing the point any further. He could bring it up at a later time if he had to. 

“It is.” 

Gus had gone back to organizing the paperwork on his desk, which was Mike’s cue to leave. He picked up his jacket off the back of a chair and left, closing the office door quietly behind him.

***

Jesse stared into his fridge, trying to decide if he should quickly eat something before going over to Gus’s. He had to be there soon, but he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and it was most likely going to be difficult to enjoy a meal while discussing whatever it was Gus had on the agenda. But the only things currently in the fridge were a jar of mayonnaise, some cans of mountain dew, and three day old Chinese takeout. Probably better to wait.

He briefly imagined what it would be like if he lived in some alternate reality where he had a normal job and was going to eat dinner with his normal boss. Maybe in a reality where that application he had made at Arroyo Realty hadn’t turned out to be for a position as a walking billboard, and he had gotten hired in sales. In that world, he would probably be looking forward to this evening, would see it as an opportunity to discuss a promotion. He would probably be thinking about a classy gift to bring with him, like a bottle of wine.

As it was, the best possible outcome for tonight was that his borderline psychopathic boss didn’t ask him to do anything that would critically endanger Jesse’s life. But maybe he could still bring a gift. He was kind of curious to see how Gus would react if he showed up with a six pack of Mountain Dew.

He walked into the living room, where Badger and Skinny Pete had been sitting for most of the day watching some sci-fi show. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing Jesse could get into, but he didn’t mind having the company, especially since he couldn’t hang out at Andrea’s place anymore. 

Badger noticed him heading toward the door. “Hey man, you should stick around! The Dominion just went to war with the Federation. Shit’s about to get real.”

“Sorry, can’t. Meeting someone for dinner.”

“That chick from NA?” asked Skinny Pete.

“Andrea.” It still hurt to say her name, but Jesse didn’t want anyone remembering her as just some chick. “And no. We kind of split last month.”

“And you’ve already moved on, huh? Nice!” said Badger, stuffing some Bugles into his mouth.

“I haven’t _moved on._ I’m having dinner with my _boss._ To talk about, like, business shit and whatever. I actually have work responsibilities, unlike you two fuck offs.” 

Skinny Pete’s eyes were still glued to the TV, but Badger looked mildly surprised. “Hey dude, chill out. How was I supposed to know? Who has a business meeting on a Saturday night? And for the record, I _do_ have work responsibilities. I started at Domino’s like three weeks ago and I’ve been showing up on time mostly and everything. They’ll probably make me manager or some shit soon.”

Jesse immediately felt guilty. “Yeah… I’m sorry, man. I don’t know, it’s just, I’ve been kind of stressed about work lately. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“It’s cool. I totally get that, actually. At Domino’s, you have to get the pizzas to the customer’s house in less than thirty minutes, or they get it for free. It’s, like, _insanely_ stressful. So yeah, I get you man.”

“Uh… yeah.” Jesse took a deep breath and headed for the car.

***

Standing in Gus’s kitchen, Jesse thought, just as he had the first time he had been there, that the house was surprisingly normal looking. Though he wasn’t sure what he had expected it to look like. Being there gave him the same kind of dissonance he got as a kid whenever he saw one of his teachers at the supermarket.

“Hey, I didn’t want to come over empty handed, so…” Jesse handed Gus the six pack of Mountain Dew. 

Gus raised one eyebrow slightly but thanked him and put it in the fridge. He was wearing a dark blue sweater, similar to the one he had worn the last time Jesse had come over. Jesse wondered if it should depress him that he had gotten to a place in his life where he was familiar with Gus Fring’s casual attire.

“So, uh, what’s for dinner?” asked Jesse, leaning on the kitchen counter. “Some Chilean thing again?”

“No. Tonight I’m making osso buco.” Gus gestured toward a pot simmering on the stove.

“Osso what?”

“It’s an Italian dish. Veal braised with vegetables.”

“You know, you didn’t have to go to the trouble of making something like that. I really would’ve been fine with some Burger King or whatever. Do you even eat fast food yourself?” Jesse had a feeling that if Gus could sell meth while looking down on junkies, the fact that he owned a fast food chain wouldn’t prevent him from looking down on people who ate at similar restaurants.

“I don’t particularly care for it. I will say, however, that the quality of the food at Los Pollos Hermanos is generally far superior to most-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not a customer, you don’t gotta sell me on it.” Jesse grabbed a grape off of a platter of fruit Gus had set on the counter. “So how long till it’s ready? The whatever it’s called?”

“It’s completely prepared. It just has to braise for about three hours.”

Jesse almost choked on the grape he had popped into his mouth. _Three hours?_ How the hell was he supposed to get through three hours of conversation with Gus? Should he tell him he was sick, and had to leave? But Gus would probably just reschedule the meal anyway. Maybe it was better to get it over with tonight. It wasn’t like Jesse had never spent significant time alone with Gus before. They had spent hours alone together in the desert when they had made their return from Mexico. But both of them had been exhausted at the time, and the walk had been spent mostly in silence. 

“Uh, do you think I could use your bathroom?” Jesse asked. He didn’t really need to, but at least it would kill some time.

“Of course. It’s up the stairs and to the right.”

Jesse walked up the stairs as slowly as possible. The bathroom was immaculately clean, just like the rest of the house. After washing his hands, he looked at the clock hanging on the wall and was dismayed to see that only about two minutes had passed. He killed a few more seconds looking through Gus’s medicine cabinet, but there was nothing interesting. Not even any allergy meds or sleeping pills. He then sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, his feet resting at the base of the tub, and his head resting against the wall. He would just rest his eyes for a couple of minutes. He was so damn tired all of the time. 

When Jesse opened his eyes back up, he glanced at the clock and was shocked to see that nearly twenty minutes had passed. He went back down to the kitchen, where Gus was washing some cooking utensils. 

“Hey, sorry. I kind of… dozed off in your bathroom,” he said lamely. Gus probably thought he had gone out the back door to smoke a cigarette or something.

Gus looked incredulous, but then asked, “How much sleep have you been getting?”

“I mean, not a fuck ton of it. I’ve kind of had some, like, anxiety provoking events in my life this year. Not that you would be aware of that or anything.”

“You need to maintain more control over your emotions.” Gus was frowning, but he said it gently, as if it was some kind of advice Jesse should be grateful for.

“You think _I_ need to control my emotions? Because I’m the one who gets so pissed off that I choose to spend my free time torturing old men in wheelchairs and planning mass poisonings?” Jesse remembered the disturbing level of vitriol in Gus’s speech to the man at Casa Tranquila. On the way out of the nursing home, Jesse had asked Gus who the man was. _He murdered someone very close to me._

Jesse didn’t think Gus would be likely to give him any further details about those events even if he asked. But he was still curious, so he decided to risk the question. “The cartel members you killed- I mean, I guess I get why you did it, like, _strategically,_ or whatever you want to call it, but was it all connected to the old guy you went to see right afterwards? Like, connected to the person he murdered? And who was it he killed, anyway? Someone in your family?”

“It was connected to that, yes.” Gus’s face was hard to read, and Jesse couldn’t tell if the questions had bothered him or not. Without answering the second question, he abruptly changed the subject by asking Jesse how Andrea and Brock were doing.

“They’re doing okay. But, uh, Andrea and I aren’t really together anymore.” Jesse didn’t exactly want to divulge his relationship status to Gus, but he felt that the further he could distance himself from Andrea and Brock in Gus’s eyes the better. Jesse had wanted to believe Gus when he had said he wouldn’t harm them, but if Jesse had learned anything from his experiences over the summer, it was to never take people at their word.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Gus, putting away the last of the silverware he’d just washed.

“Yeah. I mean, I doubt you actually give a shit, but thanks.”

“In as far as your personal life affects your professional life, I care very much. This woman seemed like a stabilizing influence on you.” Gus swept his eyes over the kitchen. “I’m done here for now. Let’s sit.”

Gus guided him into the living room. Jesse could feel his stomach turning. Now they would come to the point of whatever Gus had invited him here to discuss. Gus sat down on the couch, and gestured to Jesse to sit beside him. Gus then turned towards him and said, “Next month I will be attending a board meeting in Houston for the owners of Madrigal’s subsidiary restaurant chains.”

“Madrigal?”

“It’s a German conglomerate. The parent company of Los Pollos Hermanos. The head of the fast food division, Peter Schuler, will be in attendance. Schuler was the one who invested the money that enabled me to build the lab you now use. And Madrigal’s head of logistics is my methylamine supplier. While I am in Houston, I will be meeting with them both to discuss expanding our market.”

“Meaning what? Expanding where?”

“The Czech Republic. Roughly five percent of the population uses meth. We plan to extend our distribution there.”

Jesse felt exhausted just thinking about. Had Gus invited him over here just to tell him he would need to increase his production hours? He felt like Gus was waiting for some kind of reaction to the news, so Jesse said, “Okay. But… is this all really, like, _necessary?”_

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you must have more money than you could spend in your entire life, right? So why do you need to increase sales anyway?”

Gus looked at him as if Jesse had asked him why he consumed food or breathed air. “It’s not about profit. You are correct, when you say it is not necessary. Strictly speaking, nothing we do in this life is necessary. But anything that one _does_ do should be undertaken with the aim to excel.”

Jesse wanted to tell Gus that there were probably _some_ things in life it wasn’t exactly honorable to strive for excellence in, and that meth distribution might possibly fall into that category. Instead, he asked, “So what’s your point? Why are you telling me this?”

“I would like you to come to Houston with me for the meeting. When possible, I want to begin involving you more in the process of administrating this business, at least in an observational capacity. I know you are unsatisfied with your position currently. However, I would like you to consider the possibilities for your future if you were to stay.”

Jesse was rarely at a complete loss for words, but he had no clue how to respond. Finally, he said, “Uh, you know I helped Mr. White try to kill you? Like, just a couple months ago?” It had to be a bad idea to bring this fact up, but Jesse was so confused at the direction this conversation had taken, that part of him genuinely wondered if Gus had had some sort of memory lapse. Maybe some kind of delayed repercussion of ingesting poison was starting to affect his brain. That was the only explanation. 

“You were under the influence of Walter’s lies,” said Gus, staring intently at him, as if assessing him for any lingering contamination from Jesse’s former partner.

“But still, why me? Mr. White told me about the conversation you two had after he killed those dealers for me. _A worthless junkie._ That’s what you called me. And don’t try to tell me that was a lie. I know how you saw me. So why the hell would you want to invest your time in a worthless junkie?”

“I once told you that I like to think I see things in people. It’s true that my first impression of your character was not favorable. And when you began exhibiting increasingly destructive behavior, I could have punished you severely for it. But instead, I decided to take a gamble on you, and it paid off. When I increased your responsibilities, you rose to the occasion. When I expected more from you, you gave me more. You further proved your strength to me in Juárez. But you are still in need of direction, Jesse. I can be the one to give it to you.” 

Jesse could feel his face growing warm, his heart rate slightly increasing. God, why was he getting so worked up over a few small words of praise? Especially from a man like this. It was probably just another form of manipulation. 

As Jesse sat in silence, absorbing what had just been said, Gus placed a hand on Jesse’s lower thigh, and pressed down in a circular motion as if he intended to massage the muscle there. Jesse could feel his face getting even hotter. If this was Gus’s idea of a comforting gesture, he had miserably misinterpreted what would put Jesse at ease. Jesse awkwardly shifted his leg, and Gus removed the hand. 

***

The rest of the evening passed more quickly than Jesse had been expecting. Gus spent a large portion of the time outlining the history of his involvement with Madrigal, and what Jesse should expect from the meeting in Houston next month. But at times the conversation wandered to other subjects, Gus asking him about his family, his time at school. Apparently, the man could be a decent conversationalist when he wanted to be. This shouldn’t have come as a surprise, considering the fact that Gus had spent years cultivating an alternate persona as an amiable restaurant owner. But this was exactly the reason that Jesse could never fully relax at any point during their conversation. He was unable to tell if Gus was making an attempt at being genuinely personable, or if he was just performing a version of the same act he used in his public life.

After they had finished dinner and were drinking some mint tea Gus had insisted Jesse try, Gus finally said, “It’s past 10:00. You must be tired.” He cleared away their cups, and then walked Jesse toward the door. Jesse was about to make some generic statement thanking him for the meal, when Gus drew close enough to him that Jesse could smell the mint on his breath. Gus reached out a hand, and Jesse felt long, slender fingers stroking his face. Jesse froze, just long enough for Gus to press his lips to the left side of Jesse’s face, still clasping the other side in his hand. His mouth landed on the lower part of Jesse’s cheek, so that the corners of their lips just barely grazed each other.

Jesse felt his blood turn to ice, and he had ceased breathing entirely. But suddenly, a thought occurred to him that allowed him to regain some composure. Gus was from South America, wasn’t he? In countries like Italy, or wherever the hell, men kissed each other on the face all the time, right? It must be the same where Gus came from. A _cultural_ thing. 

Jesse mumbled a good night, and then quickly exited the house. During the drive back, his mind continued to race. Even if the explanation he had come up with for the kiss was valid, Gus had still lived in the country more than long enough to know it was inappropriate in these circumstances. Had he done it just to throw Jesse off? Jesse had been too uncomfortable to meet his eyes before he had sped out the door, so he hadn’t seen the expression on Gus’s face after he had backed away.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it _had_ just been a parting gesture. But throughout the car ride home, Jesse could hear his heart pounding, could still smell the scent of the other man’s cologne and feel the sensation of soft lips bearing down on his skin.

When Jesse pulled into his driveway, he saw a glow through the living room window. Badger and Skinny Pete must still be sitting in front of the TV, probably on something like their tenth episode in a row of Star Trek, or whatever it was they had been watching. Jesse rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment before getting out of the car. Maybe he would watch an episode with them after all.


	4. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed in the last chapter I wrote Skinny Peter at one point.. somehow sounds 100 times creepier. I should proof read these things better, but it's like.. I'm lazy. Anyway, here's the next chapter in this.. written record of my slow descent into insanity?? Or whatever.

_Bruises on both my knees for you_  
_Don’t say thank you or please_  
_I do what I want when I’m wanting to_  
_My soul? So cynical_

-Billie Eilish

***

As far as Jesse could tell, there was no real reason he should have been accompanying Mike to the location of the dead drop. The sun was low, and a deep purple was beginning to bleed into the evening sky. Mike must have made most of the stops without him already, and had possibly even gone out of the way to pick up Jesse for the last one. Jesse wondered if Mike just wanted an excuse to check in on him, but he couldn’t be sure, because Mike never actually came out and asked him how he was doing. In the times Jesse had seen him since his return from Mexico, Mike had never even brought up what had happened to Mr. White.

Regardless of the reason, Jesse hadn’t hesitated in agreeing to come. At one point, he had found standing guard for Mike tedious beyond belief. But now, when his entire world seemed to be limited to the isolation of the lab and his own home, he didn’t mind a change of scenery, and he liked being in the presence of another person, even if that person didn’t say much. 

While Jesse stared out the car window, his mind turned to the trip he would be taking to Houston in just a few days. It would be the first time he would see Gus since the dinner they’d had together several weeks ago, and he still didn’t know exactly what to make of that night. Jesse wasn’t naïve. Older men had tried to hit on him before, and he knew what it looked like. The way Gus had rubbed his thigh, the lingering kiss on his cheek… It didn’t point toward strictly platonic intentions. 

And yet, he had a hard time buying it. The events of that night had already taken on the quality of the surreal, and he had begun to wonder if his mind had exaggerated certain moments. He had been so tired, not to mention under a lot of stress. He was also unable to wrap his mind around the idea of someone like Gus coming on to him. Jesse was the last person on Earth who would ever refer to Gus as ethical, but he couldn’t deny that the man generally had a certain air of professionalism about him, which Jesse assumed would prevent him from trying to force himself on an employee. 

He wished there was a way he could ask Mike about it. Mike was the only mutual acquaintance he shared with Gus, and he had the impression the two men had known each other for some number of years. But there wasn’t much he could say, unless he went ahead and asked if Gus had ever casually kissed Mike on the face. Sure, that wouldn’t be even slightly awkward. 

Jesse chewed at his lip, trying to think of a way to possibly hint at what was on his mind, without actually bringing up exactly what had happened. Eventually he said, “Hey, Mike. Can I ask you- uh, does Gus ever, like, sort of change the way he acts around certain people?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“I mean, like, well… Has he ever, uh, I mean, I’m not saying with you, maybe with someone else, or like, maybe you’ve seen- I don’t know exactly, but like-”

“Sometime today, please.”

God, why had he brought this up? He knew his nerves about the trip were affecting him, but how had he expected Mike to help? Cringing, he said, “I guess, like, has he ever gotten sort of… _friendly_ with anyone he works with?”

Mike kept his eyes on the road. “Kid, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

Prepared for this kind of response, Jesse quickly backtracked. “Oh, yeah. Sorry, I don’t really know what I’m trying to say. I guess it’s just because I saw him for dinner last month, and I don’t know, I guess he was a little more talkative than normal.”

Mike glanced over at him. “So he brought up his plans for you, huh?”

“He told you everything?”

“Not all the details. But I got the gist.” Mike was silent for a minute or so, and Jesse thought that was the end of the conversation. But then Mike asked, “So? What did you think?”

What _did_ he think? If he was being completely honest with himself, part of him was gratified by the idea that someone saw potential in him. But it was still troubling that the person who had taken a special interest in him was Gus, not only because of the type of future Gus had in mind for him, but also because he still didn’t fully understand the man’s motives. Maybe he had been lying when he said he saw strength in Jesse. Maybe he just wanted to build up Jesse’s ego in an attempt to get him to cook for him as long as possible. And then, of course, maybe Gus just wanted to fuck him. At that last thought, he groaned audibly, and Mike gave him a strange look.

“Sorry, uh, yeah, I’m not really sure what to think yet. It’s a lot to take in.”

The rest of the drive was spent in silence. Jesse rested his face on the cool glass of the window, listened to the humming of the tires, and tried not to think about what was ahead of him.

***

Gus stood by the hotel bed, unpacking his suitcase and organizing the files he would need to refer to for the presentation he would make that afternoon on the quarterly revenue of Los Pollos Hermanos. He looked forward to these meetings. Despite the fact that the restaurant chain served as a front, he still took pride in its success for its own sake, and he enjoyed being given the opportunity to present those achievements to a group.

As his eyes scanned financial reports and statistics on the restaurant’s best-selling items, his mind began to wander to Jesse, and whether it had been the right choice to bring him along. He had been telling the truth when he had said that Jesse had managed to impress him, but he had seen the logic in Mike’s point as well, even if he didn’t care to admit it. And that concerned him, that he cared one way or the other. He should be able to look at the situation from a purely objective stand point.

The boy had been on his mind frequently for months, and not without reason, considering the many complications that had arisen with Walter and Jesse. So it wasn’t very surprising that in late August, and again a few weeks later, Jesse had featured in his dreams. He rarely remembered his dreams upon waking, but this one had been imprinted on his mind as clearly as a waking memory. It had been exactly the same in both instances that it occurred.

In the dream, Gus stands by Don Eladio’s pool, but with his side turned toward the water, so that he’s facing the sky and hills in the distance. It’s deafeningly quiet. He is the only one on the property. Out of the corner of his eye he can see dark red tendrils slowly spreading through the turquoise water of the pool, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t turn his head to see the source of the blood. He gives up, and when he lets his gaze rest forward again, Jesse is there before him, standing just a few inches away. Jesse places one hand behind Gus’s head and pulls him close until their lips meet and part open. Then Jesse trails a hand down Gus’s stomach, lower and lower, until-

The dream had abruptly ended there both times, but both times he had still awoken with a sticky wetness captured against his skin. Given the events of the summer, the content of the dream was fairly prosaic. Even the sexual element wasn’t especially shocking. Before the dream, he had never exactly thought of Jesse in that manner, but he was an attractive young man whom he saw on a relatively regular basis. There was nothing that unpredictable about it.

No, what troubled him about the dream wasn’t the content, but how vivid it was. Even after waking, he felt as if he could smell the scent of blood mixing with chlorine, the scent of sweat brought on by the blazing Mexican sun. He felt like he could still taste the younger man’s lips. He probably hadn’t remembered a dream with such perfect clarity since adolescence. And he found himself thinking about the dream more often than he liked. More specifically, he found himself thinking about Jesse more often than he liked.

But the thoughts had remained, and he had acted on them. He hadn’t kissed Jesse after dinner on some lustful impulse, but more as a calculated way of gauging his reaction. He didn’t want to force himself on Jesse, not primarily out of concern for his well-being, but because it would excessively complicate their working relationship. The boy had obviously been caught off guard, but he hadn’t pulled away or protested. This indicated to Gus that if he chose to take things further, he potentially could. But he hadn’t made that decision yet. He would have balked at the idea of getting involved with one of his restaurant employees, and in a way, this presented similar issues only on a much larger scale. 

It was unlike him to even consider the risks it would present to his business. More than that, it was unlike him to let his mind become so preoccupied in this way by desire for an individual. He hadn’t been celibate for the past twenty years, but sexual involvements had been infrequent and brief. The names he could barely remember, and the faces were interchangeable. They hadn’t been emotional entanglements, just a means to satisfy a physical need. Was that all he wanted from Jesse? Somehow, he didn’t think so. But what more he did want, or why he wanted it, he didn’t fully understand. 

He couldn’t think about this now. There wasn’t much time left until he would have to arrive at Madrigal. For a few moments, he sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the bland hotel wall paper. Then, he returned to mentally rehearsing the points he would make in his review of the financial goals Los Pollos Hermanos had lately reached. In fact, they had done quite well this quarter.

***

Jesse tried to remember the last time he had stayed in a hotel. It had been with Mr. White, hadn’t it? After they had gotten stranded in the desert. It hadn’t been all that long ago, but it felt like another lifetime. He remembered standing on the hotel bed, calling Jane up… He glanced at his phone, resting on the table next to the hotel bed he was currently sitting on. It’s not like he had anyone he could call this time. 

He and Gus had arrived at the hotel about half an hour ago, after an early morning flight. The night before, Jesse had dreamt that Gus, as part of an extreme precaution to avoid having his name listed on a flight record with someone who had the history that Jesse did, told him they were going to drive instead. He had woken up still in a state of panic at the idea of a thirteen hour car ride with Gus.

He’d had an even greater moment of panic when they had checked in at the hotel’s front desk, and the woman handed Gus a single key card. Gus must have noticed the expression on Jesse’s face, because he had turned to him and said, “It’s a suite. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms.”

He was right. There was only one door that opened up onto the hallway, but on the left wall of the main bedroom was another door that led into a smaller bedroom. But why hadn’t he just paid for two separate rooms? Jesse still wasn’t sure if he was reading too much into the other man’s actions. Maybe Gus just got some kind of twisted pleasure out of making him uncomfortable, or maybe he hadn’t even put any thought into it at all, and just booked the first available room presented to him.

Jesse looked at the clock, and saw it was almost time for them to leave for Madrigal. He opened the door to the main bedroom, where Gus was sitting at a desk next to the bed. He stood up when he noticed Jesse. Gus looked him up and down, displeasure spreading across his face. “I told you to get ready,” he said, clearly annoyed. “We have to be there soon.” 

“Yeah, I know. I _am_ ready,” said Jesse, clueless as to what the issue could be.

“You aren’t dressed properly. Didn’t you bring a suit?”

Jesse looked down at what he was wearing, a black jacket over a t-shirt, and dark jeans. “What, really? I can’t wear this? You didn’t even _tell_ me to bring a suit. It’s not like I’m going to that board meeting or whatever. It’s just gonna be me, you, and like a couple other people, right?”

“It’s a corporate environment. You will look out of place. Moreover, it’s disrespectful.” Gus seemed to think it over for a few seconds, and then said, “I packed two. You can wear the other one.”

Jesse wasn’t exactly thrilled by the idea of putting on clothes that belonged to Gus. “Seriously? It won’t even fit me.”

“It will not fit perfectly. But we are roughly the same height.”

It was true. In Jesse’s mind, Gus was taller than him, probably because he was such an imposing figure, but in reality they were almost exactly the same height. Realizing there wasn’t much point in turning this into a debate, Jesse took the items of clothing that Gus handed over to him, and went to go change. 

Gus seemed satisfied with the results. Uncomfortable being stared at, Jesse cleared his throat, and said, “Okay, then. Guess we head out?”

Gus stepped closer to him, and Jesse took a step backwards, placing himself against the door. Gus stepped forward again, and then reached out to adjust Jesse’s tie. Still holding the end of the tie in between his thumb and forefinger, he met Jesse’s eyes. “Yes. Now we are ready.”

***

It was a beautiful day in Houston, the sky a pure, joyful shade of blue, and since Madrigal was only a few blocks from the hotel, they walked over. Jesse gazed up at the skyscrapers lining the streets, thousands of windows glittering in the sun. “Not bad,” he said.

“It’s your first visit?” Gus asked, as they continued down the sidewalk.

“I came once as a kid, with my family, but I don’t remember much about it.”

“Have you traveled very much in your life? Out of the country, for instance?”

Jesse looked over at him in disbelief. “Are you for real? I mean, yeah. Pretty damn recently. My boss sent me on an all expenses paid trip to Mexico.”

“I meant besides that, clearly. It’s beneficial to travel in one’s youth. It broadens the mind. Madrigal’s headquarters is located in Hannover, Germany. The next time I have occasion to travel there, perhaps you can accompany me.”

“Thanks, but I think I’m good, man. My mind’s been broadened about all it can handle this year. And if I was gonna travel, I’d go someplace sick like Tokyo or whatever.” _And sure as hell not with you._ But as soon as the thought formed, he was reminded how only a few months ago the idea of traveling alone with this man as far as Houston would have been laughable.

They soon reached the entrance to Madrigal. Inside the building, Gus walked straight over to the doors leading to the stairwell. Jesse followed, after throwing a longing glance toward the elevator. Given that they were headed to the seventh floor, he could only assume this was some kind of punishment Gus had chosen to inflict on him for not packing a suit. By the time Jesse reached floor seven, Gus already stood waiting there impatiently. Jesse made a mental note to cut down on the cigarettes. It was probably a bad sign if a guy over twice his age could outpace him.

Gus led him down the hallway, until reaching the office he was apparently looking for. He knocked on the door, and a woman let them into the room. After she and Gus had exchanged a few pleasantries, he turned to Jesse and said, “This is Lydia Rodarte-Quayle, the head of logistics here. She has been kind enough to offer to show you around the building while I attend the board meeting.”

The head of logistics… That must mean she was the methylamine supplier Gus had referred to. Somehow Jesse hadn’t been expecting a pretty woman in her mid-thirties to fill that role. But what had he been picturing? A white-collar version of Mike?

Lydia reached out to shake Jesse’s hand, and when he met her eyes, he thought he noticed a hint of disapproval in them, although regarding what he had no idea. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t shown up in a t-shirt and jeans after all.

She led him briskly down the hallway, heading back toward the stairwell he had just come from. 

“Hey… If you wanna take the elevator, that’s cool. I know with those, it’s gotta be tricky.” He pointed down toward her high heels.

“No. I prefer to take the stairs whenever possible. Remaining still for extended periods of time is actually one of the leading causes of death in office workers. It causes heart problems.”

As they walked, she rattled off some facts about the company and her own position, which Jesse imagined might be interesting if he had even the faintest desire to learn anything about logistics, manufacturing and shipping conglomerates, or business in general. For the second time in one day, he was reminded of his time at that roadside hotel with Mr. White, who had suggested there that Jesse study business. It looked like he might be following Mr. White’s advice after all, whether he wanted to or not.

As they were walking past what appeared to be a break room, a woman noticed them and waved to Lydia. After they had exchanged a few words, the woman then turned to Jesse and said, “I don’t think we’ve met before. What department are you in?”

Before Jesse could respond, Lydia said, “Oh, he’s actually an intern. Or, a potential intern, I should say. I’ve been interviewing a few different candidates. Not all of them have the best credentials.” She glanced at Jesse. “But you know, everyone has to start somewhere.”

The woman smiled at him. “Good luck, then! You couldn’t ask for a better person to learn from in this field than Lydia.”

When the woman had gone back into the breakroom, Jesse asked, “What was that second part about the credentials for? I mean, did you have to shoot me down for a job I’m not even actually applying for?”

“Sorry,” Lydia said, not looking especially apologetic. “But that way she won’t find it strange when you never show up here again. And besides, it’s also the truth. I’m _not_ sure about your credentials. To be completely honest, I’m not sure why you’re here today.”

“To be completely honest, I’m not sure either.”

As they entered the stairwell again, Lydia continued, “I’m fully aware a lot depends on the work you do. But still, if you look at it that way, a fast food restaurant depends on its fry cooks, but they don’t get invited to the board meetings.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, I think what I do is like a _little_ more complicated than that, but sure.” Jesse rubbed his temples. Christ, it had been a long day. And they hadn’t even gotten to the meeting yet.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia said, this time looking like she meant it. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I guess I’m just a little on edge. We have a lot to discuss today, and personally I think it’s a bad choice to discuss it on this property at all. But Peter has a private office he uses when he’s in Houston, and he insists it’s safe.”

Jesse privately agreed with Lydia - why hadn’t they all just met at the hotel? - but he nodded and said, “Yeah, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Eventually the time came for Lydia to guide Jesse to the office she had referred to. It did seem to be in a secluded area of the building, but Jesse could feel Lydia’s trepidation rubbing off on him, and he found himself glancing around the room for possible locations of hidden recording devices.

Gus and Schuler were already seated at the table, speaking together in German. Jesse was grateful that he had only ever heard Gus express anger in English and Spanish. A threat from Gus in German would probably kill someone on the spot.

Gus stood up when he saw them enter. “Jesse, please allow me to introduce you to Peter Schuler, a long time executive here at Madrigal, and also a dear friend of mine.”

“How nice to meet you, Jesse… Pinkman, is it?” Schuler reached out his hand, and Jesse shook it. The man’s voice was soft spoken, and his hand was dry and frail. If Lydia wasn’t quite what Jesse had been picturing for Gus’s methylamine supplier, then Schuler was even further from what he had been picturing for the third member of this operation. He had imagined someone younger, someone with a more commanding presence. 

With introductions taken care of, the purpose of the meeting got underway. Jesse knew he would have little to contribute, understanding nothing whatsoever about the logistics or financial and security ramifications of shipping to the Czech Republic. Occasionally, Gus would pause the conversation to ask Jesse’s opinion on a certain matter. Jesse would attempt to make some halfway coherent response, based on what little he had been able to understand of the conversation, and Gus would rephrase Jesse’s reply in an articulate way, so that it almost appeared that Jesse had contributed something worthwhile to the discussion.

As this unfolded, Jesse was peculiarly reminded of a teacher he’d had in fifth grade, before he had truly started to despise school. A teacher who could take any wrong answer Jesse gave, and parse it out in a way that made Jesse feel that, far from being stupid, he was already on the correct track, and just needed a little time and assistance to get there. Jesse made a silent apology to Ms. Serrano, wherever she was now, for comparing her in any possible way to Gus Fring.

When the discussion had wrapped up, they all stood, and Jesse observed as Gus, Schuler, and Lydia said their farewells. He couldn’t help thinking they made a strange trio. But considering his history with Mr. White, he wasn’t exactly one to talk when it came to odd partnerships.

***

Jesse pulled off his shirt, and changed into some sweatpants he had packed. He then lay on the hotel bed for an indeterminate amount of time, staring at the ceiling, wishing they had gotten a late flight home. After they had left Madrigal, he had made a half-hearted attempt to explore the neighboring area, but he hadn’t really known where to go, and even if he had, sightseeing left something to be desired when you were alone. Gus had gone out to meet someone for dinner. Maybe Schuler? Jesse hadn’t asked, and didn’t really care.

He idly slid a hand beneath his sweatpants, and began stroking himself, but not with an especially committed level of energy. Lately, whenever he tried to jerk off, he would find himself distracted. Whether he was imagining some generic woman in his mind, or watching some anonymous woman on a laptop screen, it didn’t matter. Every time, Andrea’s face would appear before him, and he would begin replaying their last conversation on a loop in his mind. Or even worse, Jane’s face, candle wax pale, mouth encrusted in vomit, would flash before his eyes. After Jane had died, he had tried so hard to avoid revisiting memories of her, good or bad, and to some extent he had succeeded. But maybe that tactic could only work for so long, and the memories would begin to seep into his consciousness like rainwater through a rotted ceiling.

Suddenly the door swung open. Jesse whipped his hand out of his sweatpants so fast he almost hit himself in the face, and grabbed a pillow to place over his lap. He immediately realized that, considering he was barely hard, the pillow actually just served to accentuate the awkwardness of the situation, and he set it aside.

“Yo, what the hell?! Don’t you knock?!” 

Gus glanced at the door handle. “I assumed you would have locked the door had you needed privacy. Not to mention, it’s only 8:30. I didn’t think you would already be in bed.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know you were even back? And what, I can’t even relax for two seconds? What did you expect me to be doing? Writing up a 2,000 word essay on the history of the Czech Republic? Jesus Christ…”

“This is not a vacation. It’s a business trip. There were several points from our discussion earlier today I wished to review with you, particularly regarding the projections we made relevant to your production rate-”

“Look, can’t this wait till tomorrow? I’m fucking exhausted. I mean, aren’t you?”

Gus sat down on the edge of the bed. He had already taken off his tie and jacket, but was still wearing a gray button-down shirt. “Yes,” he said, and Jesse wasn’t sure if it was a reply to the first question or the second. Then he added, “You did well today.”

Jesse didn’t respond, just watched Gus as he removed his glasses, and studied them as if inspecting them for dust. He set the glasses down next to him, on the bedside table. It was strange, how different he looked without his glasses, considering how thin the frames were. Maybe the lack of perfect acuity in his eyes somehow softened them. 

Gus stared at him, and for a moment the room seemed so quiet that Jesse felt sure Gus must be able to hear Jesse’s heart beating in his chest. Then Gus placed one hand on Jesse’s upper thigh, and the other on his chest, lightly tracing the tattoo there with his fingers. Jesse was fully aware the point had come where he should ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, but somehow the words got caught in his throat.

Gus removed the hand from Jesse’s chest and used it to turn his face toward his. In a voice so low Jesse could just barely make out the words, he said, “This time, allow me to give something to you.”

He could feel himself growing harder, even though Gus was still only stroking his inner thigh. He felt light headed, like the ability to form a coherent, rational thought was starting to escape him. And the first thought that did form in his mind wasn’t a warning or a command but a question. Why shouldn’t he take something from this selfish, cruel man, who had taken so much from _him?_ Jesse felt his head slowly nod up and down, as if of its own accord, like it was being pulled by a string.

Jesse shifted his body slightly, allowing Gus to pull off his sweatpants, which he was bare underneath, and then closed his eyes. He could feel Gus’s fingers caressing his balls, then gliding up and down the length of his cock, and although he was now fully hard, the careful hand movements felt less like they were intended for his pleasure and more like he was being examined for Gus’s own satisfaction. It almost made him open his mouth to say he had changed his mind. 

But then the hand was gone, replaced by Gus’s lips as he kissed the head of his cock. The action was so unexpectedly delicate that Jesse’s eyes opened, just as Gus circled his tongue around the head, and then enveloped it in his mouth and began to suck. Jesse took in a sharp breath, and forced his eyes shut again. It was better that way. Then he could be with anyone or no one, a disembodied source of ecstasy.

Gus took more of him in his mouth, and the warmth and pressure of his tongue running down the side of his cock, then circling back upwards, was almost enough to end him after just a few minutes. But then Gus removed him from his mouth, so that all Jesse could feel was other man’s breath blowing over the raw, leaking tip of his cock. Even that was almost too much. 

He took Jesse inside him again, this time swallowing his entire length. Gus began moving his head up and down more rapidly, and that motion combined with the sensation of being surrounded by the narrow passage of his throat brought Jesse over the edge. When he came, he could feel Gus’s throat contract around his cock each time he swallowed more of the liquid. 

The intensity of it was almost unbearable, but part of Jesse remained present enough to want to deny Gus hearing him moan out, so he bit down on his tongue almost hard enough to draw blood. He didn’t really give a shit whether or not Gus cared that he had come still inside him without warning, although he did feel mildly embarrassed just how quickly the man had been able to finish him. But it had felt too good to dwell on that for more than a moment. 

When he opened his eyes, the high he was feeling quickly abated. Gus had sat back up on the side of the bed, not looking at him but at the wall, and Jesse could see he was hard. Why hadn’t it occurred to him until that moment that Gus might want him to return the favor? He felt a wave of nausea roll over him at the thought of how Gus would react if he refused. But before he could work himself into too much of a panic, Gus put his glasses back on, stood, and exited the room without a word, without even a look back at Jesse.

Jesse sat up, and remained motionless for a few moments. Then he flipped out the light switch and rolled over onto his side. It was barely quarter to nine. But he fell asleep quickly and, for once, didn’t wake in the night.

***

They stood by the wall of the terminal, waiting for their flight to arrive. Most of the seats in the waiting area were already filled. Jesse wanted to feel angry about what had happened the previous night, wanted to feel disgusted with himself, but he couldn’t summon the energy. For the time being, he was suspended in a sort of numb incomprehension of why he had let it happen.

He wondered how Gus felt. Did he regret it? Gus had barely said two words to him since last night. At first Jesse was relieved, wanting to avoid even the vaguest reference to what had happened between them, but now he was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the silence. He decided to break it with a question that had been on his mind. “So, we’re not getting back till this afternoon… It’ll be my second day off work. That’s not, like, a problem? You made such a big deal over me missing time before.”

Up until that point Gus had been impassively gazing off into the distance, but when Jesse spoke, he gave him a slightly exasperated look, as if Jesse had just interrupted him in the middle of a conversation. Then he said, “Of course, you will have to make up the time. You may work this Saturday and Sunday. Or you may work two double shifts. I will leave the choice to you.”

“Oh, you will? Wow, _thanks._ That’s so generous, I mean really.” Why had he asked?

More silence ensued. Another question, one he was genuinely curious about the answer to, came to him. “Lydia, and what was his name-? Schuler, yeah, that was it, how did you three meet?” 

“I met Peter nearly thirty years ago in Chile. He later introduced me to Lydia. They met through their work, obviously, and he came to think highly of her.”

“You met in Chile? But he’s German, right? Hey, you know, Fring sounds more like a German name than a Spanish name or whatever. You got relatives from there or something?”

“I do not.”

Once again, silence. What was the point in trying? Gus only made conversation on his own terms. Just like everything else he did. Starting to feel annoyed, and curious to see if he could get a reaction out of him, Jesse commented, “So, Lydia… not bad at all, right? You two ever-?” He made a circle with his thumb and index finger, and jammed the index and middle finger of his other hand through the center.

That seemed to at least partially compromise Gus’s detachment. He frowned and snapped, “Don’t be crude.”

“What? You obviously don’t got a problem mixing sex and business.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Gus hadn’t brought it up, so why the hell had he? But once he had said it, the words kept spilling out. “I mean, what, you’re telling me you never had to give a seminar on sexual harassment in the work place at Los Pollos? ‘Rule number one, don’t put your employee’s dick in your mouth.’ That wasn’t in the training video?”

“Keep your voice down,” Gus hissed, grabbing Jesse’s arm and digging his nails into the skin.

“Oh, _what?_ Am I making you uncomfortable?” But Jesse found himself glancing side to side to see if anyone was listening. It appeared not. People were wrapped up in their own lives, hurrying by with luggage, or trying to get some rest before heading to their next destination. He wondered if even one of them was having a stranger week than he was.

Still gripping his arm, Gus brought his mouth close to Jesse’s ear and said quietly, “I did it because you wanted it.”

Jesse roughly jerked his arm out of his grip. “Fuck you,” he said, and turned to walk away, although since he had to stay near the flight gate, he had a frustratingly limited area at his disposal. He felt all of the anger and disgust that he had been lacking earlier come flooding over him. Not because what Gus had said was wrong, but because it wasn’t.

Jesse walked past the rows of travelers seated in the waiting area by the gate, and then he stopped and stared out the huge, floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the planes preparing for takeoff. As a kid, he had always loved coming to airports. He couldn’t have put the reason why into words back then, but maybe it had been the sense of potential. The idea that everyone was headed somewhere new, somewhere better. 

He leaned against the wall, and waited to go home.


	5. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never considered before starting this how annoying pronouns would be?? I'm not creative enough to make it clear who I'm talking about without repeating their names way too many times.
> 
> The second scene here is just because I wanted to give Jesse a Holden Caulfield moment.. JD Salinger's rolling in his grave for getting referenced in this trash fic but yeah..

_Am I out of my head? Am I out of my mind?_  
_If you only knew the bad things I like_  
_Don’t think that I can explain it_  
_What can I say, it’s complicated_

-Camila Cabello

***

After sweeping up some fries that a customer had spilled on the ground, he began spritzing the vacant tables with spray cleaner. The liquid gave off a strong odor of chemicals, but Gus didn’t mind it. In fact, he liked the scent. He wiped the table off with a cloth, and the surface gleamed in the rays of sun that fell through the window. It wouldn’t be long before the light began to dim outside. The days were getting shorter.

As the owner of the restaurant, it wasn’t necessarily his obligation to take care of the day to day tasks such as the ones he was currently completing. But when he had the time, he took part in them. It was an easy way to gain the respect of those who worked for him, but besides that, he had always gained a certain satisfaction from cleaning. He found that people here often took cleanliness and sanitation for granted, as if they didn’t fully comprehend how miraculous it was to have an unending supply of clean water and the means to disinfect their surroundings.

He also found cleaning a convenient time to organize his thoughts, to review recent events in his life, or to plan for different contingencies that would emerge in the future. However, since that summer, whenever he tried to think of the future, he felt like he was looking through a lens that was slightly out of focus. He had started to realize how little thought he had put into what his life would look like after he had disposed of the Salamancas and the rest of the cartel. He hadn’t been sure that he would survive the plan for revenge that he had constructed, and regardless, what he would do afterward in the event that he did live through it had seemed beside the point.

He had achieved what he had spent so many years working toward. But immediately following the completion of those events, he had felt hollower than he had in as long as he could remember. The hatred he had felt for those men had consumed him, to the point where at times he thought it would turn him to ash and leave nothing left of him. At the very same time, that hatred was what had propelled him forward. He could barely remember what it was like to live without it.

But lately, whenever he thought of Jesse, it was as if the lens he was looking through shifted and everything became clearer. He had begun to recognize that the pull he felt toward the young man wasn’t just based on a passing physical desire, but was rooted in something deeper. Because when he looked at Jesse, he could start to imagine what it would feel like to have an overarching objective to pursue that wasn’t based on hatred or anger, but on the desire to transform and build. Jesse was raw material. Left to his own devices, he might amount to very little, but Gus knew that given the time he could turn him into something remarkable.

The complicating factor, of course, would be Jesse’s opposition to any guidance. It had been nearly three weeks since they had arrived back from Houston, and Gus hadn’t spoken to him since then. He understood that if he attempted to exert too much control over him too quickly, it would only increase Jesse’s resistance. Patience was necessary. 

It had been a risk propositioning Jesse that night at the hotel, but not too great a risk; when Gus had told Jesse he was good at reading people, he had meant it. Something in Jesse’s eyes, when Gus had sat down beside him and run his fingers over his chest, had said that Jesse wanted something he couldn’t admit to himself. Gus was mildly disappointed, but not surprised, at the immaturity the boy had displayed the next morning. Although he didn’t know it for a fact, he doubted Jesse had been with another man before. This held a certain attraction in its own way, but was also further reason he would need to employ a measure self-restraint when it came to setting the pace for their involvement together.

But it had been difficult that night in Houston. The taste and scent of his skin, the feeling of him hardening inside his mouth, had somehow been simultaneously the fulfilment of desire and the ignition point of a need so great that it had been a physical struggle to walk away. He had wanted to take him in every way possible, to make him his completely. After he had left the boy’s room, he had gotten into the shower, and as beads of hot water had coated his skin, he had taken his cock in his hand and finished himself, imagining what it would feel like to be inside him. It made him feel younger, only thinking about it. 

Now, while trying to unobtrusively finish cleaning the empty tables, pausing to greet customers when they entered, was obviously not an optimal time to think about such things. He squeezed the nozzle of the spray bottle, and as the stream of liquid hit the table, the chemical scent that drifted toward him was the equivalent of a splash of cold water on the face. His mind sufficiently cleared, he returned to the work at hand.

***

Sitting alone in his car in a motel parking lot, after the sky had already begun to flood with darkness, probably wasn’t the best way possible to spend a Friday evening, but at this point it was all relative, wasn’t it? Jesse had driven over to the Crossroads Motel about twenty minutes ago, and since then had sat staring at the rows of doors in front of him, lost in thought. 

When he had gotten back from Houston, he had spent the next week on edge, sure that at any moment Gus would contact him again, try to continue where they had left off on that hotel bed. When he hadn’t seen or heard from him by the second week, he tried to put it out of his mind, and tell himself it had been a bizarre one-off. 

The problem was, despite his efforts, he couldn’t get it off his mind. When he lay down at night, the image of Gus leaning over him and taking him in his mouth, the feeling of his tongue licking at the head of his cock, would come rushing back to him and he would feel a mixture of shame and arousal that would leave his face burning and his heart racing.

What happened that night wasn’t so affecting because of anything particular to Gus, he reasoned with himself. It was just that it had been the first time he had been in intimate contact with anyone since the summer. That had to be why he was unable to stop thinking about it. But even if he had wanted to put the effort into meeting someone, he couldn’t start a new relationship. Not while he was still involved in his current line of work. But he also didn’t necessarily want to go back to the endless stream of bodies that had once rotated through his house. So that’s what had brought him here. He needed a distraction.

He finally got out of his car, and walked up to the balcony on the second floor of the motel. A woman stood in front of one of the doors, elbows leaning on the railing. “Hey,” Jesse called out. He couldn’t remember seeing the woman at the motel before, but there was something familiar about her face. “You seen Wendy today?” 

“Huh? No. Don’t know any Wendy.” The woman was wearing shorts and a neon pink halter top, despite the sharp chill in the air. Beneath the fluorescent lights, her shirt was practically glowing. Her blonde hair was in a messy braid, and she looked about the same age as Jesse, although it was hard to tell under the makeup. She wore iridescent green eyeshadow that reminded him of beetle shells. She looked Jesse up and down and then shrugged. “I’m not doing much. Cash first though.”

Jesse thought it over. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea. She could lead him to a motel room where a guy pointing a gun at his face would greet him at the door. But then again, what the hell did it matter if he got robbed? It wasn’t like he didn’t have the cash to spare. 

He followed her into her room. She set down a bag of sour skittles she had been eating, and took a swig from a water bottle. “Those things really burn the skin off the roof of your mouth, you know?” she said, and Jesse nodded, although he supposed it had been a rhetorical question. After she had swished the water around in her mouth for a few seconds, she asked, “So, what do you want, anyway?”

“Really, whatever.” He was starting to wish he hadn’t come.

“Whatever? Fine, sit on the bed.” He obliged, and she got down on her knees between his legs. She undid his belt buckle and zipper, and perfunctorily took his still soft dick into her mouth.

It felt fine. It felt more than fine. But he couldn’t focus on what she was doing to him. There was something about her face… He was sure he recognized her from somewhere, but couldn’t place it. Could she have gone to the same high school as him? She was pretty, even with the gaudy makeup, so he probably would have remembered her if she had been in his grade. But maybe she had been a year ahead or a year behind him?

He found himself wondering how she had ended up at this point in her life, risking her safety for some cash. She didn’t have any of the physical signs of an addict, but who knew? And did she feel okay about making money this way, or was it something she just kind of fell into, and now couldn’t seem to get out of? Did she just keep going through the motions because she felt paralyzed thinking about the future? Did she wake up every morning questioning every choice she had ever made, over and over until she felt her chest tightening, until it got hard to breathe, and…

He pushed her shoulders back. “Hey, look. Sorry, I’m like- I’m not feeling it tonight. It’s not you.”

She stood up, wiping spit off her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you think I’m gonna give you your money back-”

“No, I wasn’t- hey what’s your name?”

“My name?” She looked at him like he had just asked her for her social security number. But then said, “Amy.”

The name was too generic for it to spark any memory that would confirm his theory. He could have just asked her where she went to high school, but for whatever reason he couldn’t bring himself to. “Okay. Amy, you want to just, like, I don’t know- talk or whatever?”

“What the hell do you want to talk about? Get a fucking shrink,” she said, not unkindly.

Jesse, still sitting on the bed, began jiggling his leg up and down. Suddenly he said, “You know, you don’t gotta do this kind of shit, right?”

Amy gave him what was possibly the biggest eye roll he had ever received in his life. Which was saying a lot, considering all the time he had spent with Mr. White. “Sorry, but I don’t think I gotta take advice from a guy who has to pay for a blow job and then can’t even finish.”

“No, really, though. You could just get in your car and drive. Like, wherever the hell you wanted. Doesn’t matter. Just go, till you get somewhere you don’t know anyone. Somewhere nobody knows you, and then-” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He stood, zipped up his jeans. “Yeah, well. I should go.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Amy had switched on the television. She didn’t look up as he left.

***

When the invitation that Jesse had been expecting had finally come, he had been horrified by how quickly he had accepted. This time, there had been no mention of a business related discussion, or even the pretense of dinner together. Gus had simply told him to arrive at 9:30. Jesse now stood in the man’s living room, feeling about as awkward as was humanly possible. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. Gus stood several feet away from him in silence.

In order to have somewhere to rest his eyes besides the floor or the ceiling, Jesse looked down at the collection of framed photographs sitting on top of a bookshelf next to the couch. One of the pictures showed a young girl, maybe six or seven, standing in front of a whitewashed building. She was wearing a plaid skirt with a blouse and tie; probably a school uniform. 

“Hey, you don’t have kids, do you?” Jesse asked. The thought had never even occurred to him.

“I have a daughter.”

“What, for real? But you’re not married, right?” Ridiculously, Jesse found himself gazing around the room, as if looking for signs of a wife he had somehow missed on his two previous visits.

“I was. In Chile.”

He could tell Gus wasn’t really interested in furthering the conversation, but Jesse continued anyway. “Really? Like, I guess I thought- I mean, were you, like, _into_ that?” He felt embarrassed after the question had left his mouth. It was a stupid thing to say. It’s not like he knew Gus well enough to make an assumption one way or the other. And anyway, Gus practically grew up in the fucking 1800s. People got married back then whether they wanted to or not.

Instead of answering the question directly, Gus said, “That’s irrelevant. The purpose of marriage is not self-gratification.”

“Yeah? So it’s just there to make people miserable?”

“No. I would say it forms the basis of a cohesive community structure. And enables one to better fulfill certain obligations to society.”

Jesse had to restrain himself from laughing. “Like… isn’t that a little much coming from you? Because you’re such an asset to society.”

“The efficient management of a business could be considered an asset to society, regardless of the commodity.”

Jesse stared at him. Sometimes he couldn’t believe the shit that came out of Gus’s mouth. He had to question whether Gus himself always believed what he said, or if he just had the world’s most fucked up sense of humor. Frighteningly enough, given it was doubtful Gus had any sense of humor whatsoever, it was probably the former. He shook his head, and then asked, “What happened to your wife? You didn’t bring her to the states?”

“She and my daughter relocated to France years before I left Chile. That’s where my wife’s family was originally from.”

Jesse looked down at the photographs again, and picked up a frame that held a picture of a woman with thick black hair, a yellow flower behind one ear. “This her? She’s hot as fuck, man.”

Gus grabbed the photo from his hand and placed it back on the shelf. “That’s my _daughter.”_

“Shit, sorry. But I would’ve pictured your kid being a lot younger.”

“She’s in her thirties. She has two young children of her own.”

Jesse peered back at the picture of the girl in the school uniform. He could tell the picture was older, slightly faded. It must have been the woman with the yellow flower as a child. He didn’t see any other pictures of his daughter or pictures of possible grandchildren. Maybe they weren’t close. That wouldn’t exactly be a shock. But Jesse probably wasn’t as disturbed as he should have been to learn that Gus was a grandfather. In the scheme of things, it was pretty low on the list of characteristics that troubled him about getting physically involved with the man. “So why did they leave? Were you selling meth or some shit back then? And your wife found out?”

“Not exactly. There was quite a bit of political turmoil during the 70s and 80s in Chile. And I was in the military, which did complicate matters at times. My wife decided it would be best if she raised our daughter with her extended family abroad. We didn’t always see eye to eye. She had a somewhat naïve worldview. Or, if I were to be generous, I suppose I could say she was idealistic.” He gazed down at the two pictures of his daughter. “I do have… certain regrets from that time in my life.”

Jesse was beginning to wish he hadn’t pushed for details. He wasn’t sure if Gus meant he regretted the events that led to him losing his family, or if he regretted his time in the military. Maybe both. Either way, if Gus had taken actions that even he considered regrettable, Jesse didn’t want to know what they were. In any case, Gus didn’t seem interested in offering further explanation, because he placed his hands on Jesse’s shoulders and said, “Enough talk.”

He pushed Jesse down onto the couch. Jesse let him pull his shirt off, but when Gus reached to undo his jeans, Jesse pushed his hands away. This was already mortifying enough without being undressed like a child, and he removed the rest of his clothes himself. By the time he had finished, Gus had taken off his glasses and the dark red sweater he’d had on, but still wore a fitted white t-shirt. As Jesse observed the way the fabric stretched over the outline of his chest, he felt himself harden, and then instantly was disgusted with himself for the reaction. He would have to learn how to completely shut down his brain if he wanted to do this.

Gus kneeled between his legs, and placed his hands on Jesse’s knees to spread them slightly further apart. There was none of the slow, deliberate escalation by degrees Gus had performed the night at the hotel. He immediately began moving Jesse’s cock in and out of his mouth. Jesse wanted to shut his eyes tight like he had the first time, but he found himself unable to look away from the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of the man’s mouth, the sight of lips coming flush against his balls. When Gus removed him from his mouth, the sudden cessation provoked Jesse to groan, “Hey, please- come on.” God, he hated how he sounded. How had he gone from biting his tongue to keep silent to begging aloud?

Jesse closed his eyes and leaned back further into the couch as he felt Gus lightly kiss the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Gus pushed his legs even wider apart, and then, without any warning, Jesse felt his hands on his ass, spreading him open, and the wet heat of his tongue inside him. _“Fuck.”_ He jerked back so hard that he banged his head on the wall behind the couch. It would have been comical if he had been watching it happen to someone else. Gus didn’t react to the noise of Jesse’s skull colliding with the wall, but only gripped onto his legs more firmly, pulling him forward, and continued to move his tongue in insistent circles.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had his ass eaten out, but the previous experience had been with some chick he barely knew, and he had been uninhibited by anonymity and the high he had been on. Now, sober, in a well lit room, with his boss of all people, he felt agonizingly exposed. Strangely, though, that exact sense of exposure brought him to a pitch of arousal different from anything he had experienced. 

Gus began alternating between running his tongue over his balls, and lifting them up to suck at the skin just beneath. He then sucked his balls into his mouth, continuing to swirl his tongue around each of them, and as he did so he grasped Jesse’s cock and began stroking up and down. Jesse no longer cared what sounds came out of his mouth, and he felt so far removed from the imploring moans that escaped his lips that they could have been coming from another person. 

Gus flattened his tongue, circling it around his asshole before stiffening it and entering once again. As he moved his tongue deeper inside him, he increased the pressure and pace of his hand around his cock, until Jesse felt an exquisite burst of warmth burn from his center down to the soles of his feet. Come spattered onto his stomach and chest, and Gus leaned over him, dragging his tongue across his skin. Jesse was in too much of a daze to object to being cleaned off in such a manner, nor did he exactly mind the sensation of Gus’s tongue trailing over his body as Jesse inhaled and exhaled, the simple act of catching his breath a pleasure in itself. 

He could sense Gus getting off the floor to sit beside him on the couch, but Jesse didn’t turn to look at him. He just wanted to float for a few moments longer. Finally, he sat up and looked toward Gus. Jesse knew what was expected of him now. He had known that before he had even driven over here, and he had still shown up, hadn’t he? But he felt short of breath just at the thought of putting a dick in his mouth. He looked down at the outline of Gus’s cock in his pants, and felt himself turning red as he met his eyes. “I don’t think I-”

Gus cut him off. “Use your hand.”

Jesse paused and then nodded. Gus pulled off the white t-shirt. Jesse realized it wasn’t the first time he had seen Gus in a state of semi-undress. Unpleasant memories were suddenly stirred of Jesse’s desperate attempts to get someone to attend to Mike’s injuries while everyone focused their ministrations on Gus, laid out on a stretcher, clothes torn off by the medics. 

Jesse forced himself back to the present moment, and saw that Gus hadn’t undone his belt buckle. What, did he want Jesse to do it? He hesitantly brought his hands, which were beginning to sweat, to the belt, then undid his zipper and pulled at the cotton fabric beneath until he managed to free his cock. Heavy and thick, he was relieved he wouldn’t have to try to force it down his throat. It was surreal, touching another man like this. He began moving his hand up and down, and continued to do so for what felt like an uncomfortably long period of time. Was he doing something wrong? He felt too awkward to ask.

Eventually, Gus placed his own hand over Jesse’s, altered the speed and pressure for him, and then removed his hand and let Jesse continue. It didn’t take too long after that. Jesse watched Gus’s face as he came. The only change that came over it was the faintest tightening of his already closed eyes. Jesse was reasonably sure Gus wouldn’t expect him to be down for removing the come in the same way he had for him. Sure enough, Gus immediately reached for a box of tissues that sat on the table by the couch, and cleaned himself off before pulling the white t-shirt back on. 

After doing so, Gus leaned over him, placing one hand around his waist, and another behind his head, and pressed his lips to Jesse’s, forcing his tongue inside his mouth. It made Jesse the most uncomfortable he had been since his arrival. It was more intimate than he could possibly handle. He knew that made no sense, given that moments ago he’d had the man’s dick in his hand and his tongue up his ass, but those actions felt something like services rendered. The kiss felt… personal. Gus must have noticed Jesse’s lack of reciprocity, because he separated himself from him. He put his sweater back on, placed the arms of his glasses carefully over his ears. Jesse remembered he was still completely naked, and quickly began to dress.

Once Jesse had finished dressing, Gus stated out of nowhere, “I’ve been thinking it may be beneficial for you to be on the payroll of Los Pollos Hermanos. You don’t currently have a legitimate source of income.”

The abrupt switch to business mode was so jarring that it took Jesse a few seconds to process what he had said. Then he shrugged and replied, “You sound like Saul. Next thing you’ll be telling me I gotta pay taxes and shit.”

The corner of Gus’s mouth twitched; whether in annoyance or amusement, Jesse couldn’t tell. “Yes. That would be advisable.”

“Wouldn’t you be paranoid though? What if, like, they got some kind of lead on you again and they find my name on your payroll? After everything I went through with Mr. White’s brother-in-law?”

“I doubt that would present a major concern. Schrader never had any concrete evidence to charge you with. But I will give it some consideration.”

“Don’t really matter though… Because, I mean, if you think I’m gonna work 40 plus hours in the lab every week, then work your drive-through window on weekends, you’re insane.”

“We don’t have a drive-through. And I meant in name only. I can enter you in the payroll system in a position it would be difficult for anyone to verify you in. Something such as product transportation. For the time being, at least. In the future, there may be the opportunity for you to fill an opening for a higher level position, either for Los Pollos Hermanos in particular or for Madrigal more generally. In that case, taking over the role in actuality could provide good experience for you. Along those lines, it has also occurred to me that you may want to consider enrolling in a business administration program once a new term begins in January. I understand that there are availabilities for evening courses, so it need not interfere with your work.”

For the second time since his trip to Madrigal, Jesse was reminded of Mr. White urging him to go to community college for business. “Yo, what’s _up_ with everyone getting on my ass about studying business?”

Gus gave him a confused looked, and then said, “I will not force you. It was merely a suggestion. I thought it might come in use for your future.” Jesse’s face must have indicated his skepticism, because Gus continued, “Don’t underestimate yourself. You are capable of more than you think you are.” 

Jesse stared down at the floor. “I still don’t get why you think I’m… I don’t know.” He had been going to say, “I still don’t get why you think I’m worth anything.” But it sounded too fucking cheesy to say out loud. Not to mention that he didn’t exactly need to hear an inspirational speech from the guy who had hired men to taze him and hold him hostage in the lab barely four months ago.

However, Gus seemed to intuit how Jesse had been intending to finish the sentence, because he nodded slowly as if he were thinking it over. He then said, “You haven’t necessarily made the most promising start for yourself in this life. But there was someone very close to me who had a similarly difficult start, and I saw many of the same qualities in him that I see in you. Unrealized potential. It led me to pay for his education, and-”

“By ‘someone very close’ you mean _very close,_ right?” interrupted Jesse. “So that was bullshit, what you said before about marriage not being about self-gratification. What you meant to say was that it didn’t matter how you felt about your wife, because you were getting it on the side. It’s just like everything else in your life, right? You don’t care who gets hurt in reality as long as you can put on a good show for the public.”

Predictably, Gus looked irritated. “My family was not just for the sake of appearances. I did care something for my wife, and as far as it was within me, I tried to be a good husband to her.”

“Yeah, so good she left the country,” Jesse muttered under his breath.

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing… So, anyway, was it worth it? Paying for that guy’s education?”

“Of course.” Gus paused, as if weighing whether or not he should share any further information. Finally he continued, “He did have to put in more effort than others entering his field. Because of his past circumstances, his schooling had been somewhat more sporadic. But he was extremely diligent, and developed into a brilliant chemist. He was incredibly intelligent, but had none of the arrogance typical in such men. Had he lived, he would have accomplished many great things.”

“He died? Wait, he wasn’t the one you told me about? The one who was murdered?” 

Gus nodded, and Jesse suddenly felt uneasy. He had wanted to know who it was Gus had lost, but now that he had told him, Jesse found it more uncomfortable than expected to be exposed to such vulnerability. Furthermore, he had no interest in getting tangled up in Gus’s life as a rebound for the ghost of a dead lover. He looked back over at the photographs lined up on the bookshelf, but he didn’t see any that featured a young man.

Then something else Gus had said registered with him. “Did you say he was a chemist? Did he, like, cook for you?” Gus nodded again, and Jesse’s unease grew deeper. “You know, you made it sound like some kind of altruistic shit, taking this guy off the streets or whatever, paying for his education. But you just did it for yourself, right? You just needed a chemist who would owe you.”

Gus’s face darkened, and although Jesse often found the other man’s emotions inscrutable, he understood well enough what Gus was feeling in that moment. It was the sting you experience when you share something private, something it costs you a part of yourself to say out loud, and the person listening doesn’t react in the way you want or expect. It was enough to make Jesse feel guilty for the comment. But then he remembered who he was speaking to, and the guilt evaporated.

“You’re wrong,” said Gus. “He chose his course of study, not me. It was his passion. But the job market was unfavorable at that time. Rather than devote his days to restaurant work, why shouldn’t he have benefitted from his skills in chemistry? He deserved to. More than anyone.”

Somehow, the defense brought to mind Mr. White. Jesse remembered how when Mr. White and he had first started working together, Jesse was still unable to think of the man as anything other than a beleaguered high school teacher. He had never really questioned him in that role. But Mr. White was the smartest man he had ever known. He shouldn’t have _had_ to turn to cooking meth to make money in the first place. He could have done anything with his life that he wanted to, so why hadn’t he? Jesse wanted to ask Gus, if he had loved this man, why he hadn’t pushed him to wait to find _anything_ better to do with the talent that he had been given. Maybe then he would still be alive.

But there was no point in saying any of that. What’s done was done. So instead, he asked, “Was that the guy you started Pollos with? You mentioned him working in a restaurant.”

“Yes.”

“So… like, the restaurant does have some meaning or whatever to it for you?” It was a strange realization. Jesse had never thought of the restaurant chain as anything more than a cover for meth distribution.

“You could say that.”

Jesse tried to imagine an alternate reality where, having departed from his past life in Chile, Gus chose to turn the page completely, and live life as a regular businessman. But he couldn’t picture it. For all that Gus seemed to have some appreciation for order and surface level propriety, Jesse didn’t think the man would have ever been satisfied living without the challenges presented by the constant evasion and machinations required to maintain his illicit empire. Gus didn’t strike him as a person capable of living an ordinary life, and while Jesse could see how some might find this impressive, even admirable in a way, he thought it was depressing as hell.

After a period of silence, Jesse stood up and said, “I should get going.” He hadn’t been at Gus’s house for all that long, but he suddenly felt overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by what, exactly, he wasn’t sure.

Gus stood also, and placed his hand on the crook of Jesse’s neck. Jesse tensed, worried Gus was about to try to force his tongue down his throat again. But after gently stroking Jesse’s neck for several seconds, he removed the hand and stepped back. He met Jesse’s eyes briefly before looking away, and said, “Yes. You should be going.” The tone of his voice was- indifferent? Disappointed? Jesse couldn’t tell.

Jesse walked out to the driveway, and took one glance back at Gus’s house. With the white columns, and lanterns illuminating the doorway, it really was a nice looking home. He sighed, and got in the car.


	6. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my first time writing something like this so.. I don't know if the E rated portions are like 90 percent cringey or what. But whatever, I tried.

_If I see you and I don’t speak_   
_That means I don’t fuck with you_   
_I’m a boss, you a worker bitch_   
_I make bloody moves_

-Cardi B

***

Gus rarely showed up in person at the lab, so Jesse was immediately put on edge when he entered from the stairway above. Jesse looked over at the clock on the wall. His shift was nearly over. Hopefully whatever conversation was about to take place wouldn’t take long. He wanted to get the hell out of there and feel some fresh air on his face, even though the temperature outside had been cold enough that the radio report he had listened to that morning had predicted snow. 

Without offering any kind of greeting, Gus began, “As I told you I would, I gave some thought to the possible implications having you on my payroll may present. I still believe that it would be unlikely to cause any issues, but in an excess of caution, I feel it would be best to be open about having you in my employ.”

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?” Jesse’s eyes flitted toward the clock again.

“Every year as part of an outreach program leading up to the holidays, a job fair is held at the community center featuring businesses that have committed to fair hiring practices for individuals with prior convictions. ASAC Merkert will be volunteering at the event this coming Saturday, and has asked me to participate as well. I gather that he still feels some guilt for having me in for questioning earlier this year. If you attend and ask for his assistance, it’s probable he will guide you over to me. If he is the one to introduce us, it would be very difficult for anyone to find anything suspect about our association.”

Jesse was silent. There were so many things wrong with the words that had just come out of Gus’s mouth, he wasn’t sure where to begin. “Okay… First of all, I don’t _have_ any convictions. I mean, yet. Who knows how long that will last, thanks to you. And you don’t think this is going to look even more suspicious? Like, I just happen to show up at the same event you’re at? And you want me to do some stupid fucking roleplay where I pretend not to know you, and beg you for a job? Are you insane?”

Gus looked unfazed by his objections. “The event is open to those without a criminal record as well. And it’s not unusual that we would both be present. I have participated other years. It will take all of ten minutes of your time.”

He still didn’t buy it. Gus probably just liked the idea of getting to watch Jesse entreating him for work. But he got the impression Gus wasn’t interested in his opinion on the matter, so Jesse sighed impatiently and said, “Fine, whatever. Don’t blame me when it backfires on you. Anyway, are we done here? My shift’s over.”

Gus nodded, but then said, “There is one other matter I wished to bring up. I have observed that you’ve maintained your sobriety with great success over these past months. I must commend you for that.” 

Jesse shrugged, unsure where this was going. He doubted it would end with a simple compliment. “Yeah. Thanks, I guess.”

“I do wonder, however, if there are other aspects of your health you may consider more closely attending to.” Gus stared at him, as if Jesse was supposed to glean some meaning from these words, but Jesse had no idea what the hell he was getting at. Seeing the confusion on Jesse’s face, he said bluntly, “I would like you to go to a clinic and receive testing. As you know, I had to obtain access to your medical records before we went to Juárez, and there was no indication that you’d had any previous testing done, despite the fact that I assume you have at some point shared needles with others, as well as participated in other equally reckless behaviors. It was careless of me not to have requested this of you before now.”

Jesse gaped at him. “Are you fucking _serious?_ Where the hell do you get off telling me what to do about shit like that?”

“You know why it’s relevant to me. I would like to take things further between us, and I presume you would as well,” Gus stated casually, as if he were discussing preparations for the job fair or some other mundane aspect of Jesse’s employment. Jesse felt his face burning, and he paranoidly glanced up at the security camera.

But he realized there was a point to what Gus had said. It wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing to get checked out, given the number of women he had been with during some of his lower points during the past year. But now how could he visit a clinic without Gus thinking he had done it just because he had asked him to? “Look, if I decide to, you know, do what you’re asking, it’s just for, like, health reasons and shit. Sure as fuck not for you. And by the way, what about you, huh? You got some test results you’re ready to share with me? I fucking doubt it.”

“I assure you, you need not concern yourself with that.”

“What, I’m supposed to just take your word for it?” Jesse shot back, although he found that he believed him. Not because Gus was honest, but because he was fastidious. He probably kept an agenda book where he listed annual appointments and shit like that; the kind of executive functioning that had always been beyond Jesse. 

“Yes, you may take my word for it. And I don’t care about your reasons as long as you get it done. I don’t want there to be any barriers between us.”

Was that supposed to mean what he fucking thought it meant? He wanted to sink into the floor. But he felt his stomach flip with what could have been a sense of anticipation. Or dread. It was hard to tell the difference these days.

As Gus turned to leave, he said, “Bring a resume with you this Saturday. It will look unnatural if you don’t have one to give me.”

Fifteen minutes later, Jesse also exited the laundry. When he walked outside, flakes of snow were just beginning to coat the earth.

***

It was easy to spot Merkert. He was wearing a nametag, standing by a table near the entryway. When Jesse approached him, he slid a sign-in sheet toward him, which requested a name and phone number. After Jesse signed it and handed it back to him, he watched as Merkert looked down at the name he had written, and saw the recognition dawning on his face. Jesse imagined he must be having unpleasant flashbacks to dealing with the aftermath of Schrader’s attack on Jesse, but Merkert maintained his composure. He cleared his throat and looked back up at Jesse. “And uh, what brings you here today?”

“Uh… Just looking for work, I guess,” Jesse said, trying to sound nonchalant. It sounded like a lie to his own ears, but at least Merkert didn’t seem to be outwardly suspicious of his presence there.

“Can I point you in the right direction? A certain type of work you’re looking for?”

Jesse was surprised by his pleasant tone, considering his history with the DEA. But maybe Merkert still held some gratitude that Jesse had dropped the charges against Mr. White’s brother-in-law. Jesse knew he had to get him to point him in the direction of Gus, so he replied, “I mean… I have some experience in fast food, sort of.” This was technically true. The summer he was fifteen, he had started a job at a Taco Bell near his house. He had worked there for a couple of months before the school year started, and soon after that he had begun making enough money dealing that he’d had no motivation to return to the job.

Merkert nodded and said, “Okay. Well, if you like, I can introduce you to the owner of Los Pollos Hermanos. You know the place? He’s a good friend of mine, always mentions he’s looking for new people.” 

_A good friend?_ Jesus Christ. Schrader had never caught on to the fact that his own brother-in-law was Heisenberg, and now ASAC Merkert was a good friend of Gus Fring? Were these the most incompetent people in the history of the DEA?

After Jesse nodded, Merkert motioned to another volunteer to take over signing in visitors, and then walked him over to a table where Gus had displayed job applications and listings of open positions at his various restaurant locations. Merkert and Gus exchanged a few words about the large turn out at the event, and then Merkert gestured toward Jesse and said, “This is, uh, Jesse Pinkman… He may be interested in a position in restaurant work. And Mr. Pinkman, this is Gus Fring.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Gus as he reached out his hand for Jesse to shake. He was wearing a yellow button-down shirt and a tan zip-up jacket, what Jesse supposed was his typical restaurant attire. It was weird to see him in such a bright color.

“Yeah, uh… same,” responded Jesse, taking Gus’s hand in his. Jesse had never had the opportunity to observe Gus in his role as a restaurant owner, so seeing him interact with Merkert, watching him smile and even laugh while making pleasant conversation, was strange… but not as strange as he had expected. Jesse had always imagined that if he ever saw Gus interact with the public, there would be some uncanny quality to his mannerisms that Jesse, knowing the man’s true character, would be able to pick up on.

But in fact, the smile sat naturally on Gus’s face, and even reached his eyes. It made Jesse feel slightly less judgmental of Merkert for being taken in by him. There was something about the smile that felt genuine, that was appealing in the sort of way that made you want to do whatever you could to prolong its presence. For the first time, he understood why Gus had been able to become such a trusted member of the community. But there was something incredibly unsettling about that realization. It made Jesse wonder how many other people in the world lived such successful double lives.

“Would you mind if I take a look at your resume?” Gus asked, and Jesse handed it over to him. The work experience section was so brief that Jesse suddenly felt embarrassed. Maybe it _was_ a good thing that he would soon be able to list a new position on his resume, even if it was fake. After looking the resume over briefly, Gus said, “It appears that you don’t have very much recent experience. If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you here today?”

Was Gus really going to do this to him? Unfortunately, Merkert had struck up a conversation with the person at the table only a foot to the right of them, and was still within earshot. Jesse tried to think of a response, but came up blank. Finally he said, “Uh… I guess I’m just trying to… you know, turn my life around?” God, this was humiliating.

Gus smiled so sincerely that Jesse had to remind himself this was all for show. “How admirable. And what makes you think Los Pollos Hermanos would be a good match for you?”

Was this shit necessary? Couldn’t Gus just take the resume and tell him he would give him a call? Jesse glanced sideways, and saw Merkert was still standing nearby. “Well… I did work at Taco Bell for a while, so I guess you could say I’m totally familiar with, like, ethnic food… of that kind of standard.”

If Gus was annoyed by the comment, he didn’t show it on his face. After a few more generic questions gauging Jesse’s aptitude for the exhilarating world of the fast food industry, Gus finally seemed satisfied, and put Jesse’s resume away in a folder. Merkert had left the vicinity by that point, so Jesse was about to turn to leave, when Gus reached out his hand one more time, and said, “I’ll be in touch. It was very nice meeting you.”

Jesse gave him his hand, but instead of shaking it, Gus just held it in his for a few moments, then pulled Jesse closer toward him. “A week from today. Is that sufficient time?”

“Time for _what?”_ Jesse knew he was referring to their previous conversation. But he was pissed he would bring it up here.

Gus gripped his hand more firmly and said, “I’ll assume that the answer is yes. You may arrive next Saturday at 7:00.” 

Jesse pulled his hand away. He suddenly felt slightly unsteady on his feet. He tried to take in a deep breath, but he felt like it got stuck somewhere near the top of his chest. Weren’t they always saying to breathe from your stomach?

He headed toward the exit of the community center. He passed by dozens of people lining up to fill out job applications, some who seemed hesitantly hopeful, and others who wore expressions of resignation, as if they knew they would be turned down before even filling out their names on the forms. He looked back over his shoulder as he headed out the door. He wished them all the best. He really did.

***

This was the fourth time Jesse had been inside Gus’s house, but the first time he had been in his bedroom. It was decorated very simply. There were no pictures or photographs hanging on the walls, just a mahogany bureau set against one wall, and on the opposite side, an antique looking mirror hanging on a door that Jesse assumed opened to a closet. But the burgundy sheets covering the bed felt expensive. Jesse tried to think of the term to describe them… high thread count? Some shit like that.

His trip to the clinic had been pretty painless, and it actually _was_ reassuring to get a clean bill of health. The only moment that had given him any pause had occurred when he was filling out the paperwork that listed a series of questions regarding his health and lifestyle. One of the questions had asked him to indicate the gender of any sexual partners. For some reason, the question had irritated him, and he had circled female only. 

The truth was, he hadn’t given very much thought to the fact that Gus was a man, most likely because he spent so much time thinking about how problematic Gus was as a human being _period._ There had been instances in Jesse’s life prior to this when men had either subtly or not so subtly expressed interest in him. And there had even been moments when part of him had wanted to reciprocate. But the urge had never been so strong that he had acted on it, never so strong that it had been worth having to alter the way he viewed his own identity. What did it say about him that Gus was the one to change that? It was a question he didn’t want to know the answer to.

Jesse was sitting on the edge of the bed, still clothed. “So, uh… what’re you doing tomorrow?” He had no idea why he thought now would be a good time to attempt to make conversation, but he felt so awkward in the silence it was almost painful.

Gus looked surprised by the question, but replied, “I will most likely go into work. Sundays are typically busy for restaurants.”

Jesse had to imagine Gus worked at least sixty hours a week, probably more. On top of all the charitable work he was involved in. And the not so charitable work. If time hadn’t been a factor, Mr. White could have just waited for the man to die from a stroke… 

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Gus’s voice. “Undress.”

Right. That’s why he was here. As Jesse took off his clothes, he could feel Gus’s eyes on him, and he didn’t start undressing himself until Jesse had finished. After Gus had folded up his own clothing, he sat down on the bed next to Jesse. As he looked at Gus, completely exposed before him, suddenly the reality of what they were about to do hit him with such force that he could feel his hands begin to shake. God, he had to get a hold of himself. 

He didn’t feel ready yet, so before Gus could move any closer to him, he pointed at his glasses where they sat on top of the bureau, and asked, “How good can you see without those things?” He partly hoped that Gus’s vision was so bad that Jesse now appeared as an anonymous blur. 

“Well enough at this distance.” Then, as if reading his thoughts, he added, “I’ll be able to see you when I fuck you.” It was the first time Jesse had heard him say the word fuck, and there was something a little disconcerting about it. He then said, “You haven’t done this before?”

It was more of a statement than a question, but Jesse responded, “Yeah. I mean no. I mean, yeah, I haven’t before. Yeah… no.” He supposed that this would be the point where a more empathetic partner would say something along the lines of “Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow.” But Gus remained silent.

Jesse wasn’t sure what he should do next. Gus stared at him, as if waiting for Jesse to make the first move. Should he get on his hands and knees? He decided to just flip over onto his stomach, but once he had done so, Gus said, “No. On your back.” Jesse wasn’t thrilled about this, since he would just as soon not see Gus’s face at any point throughout this experience, but he complied. 

After he had turned onto his back, Gus positioned his body above Jesse’s, and lowered himself until their erections met. He began rubbing them against each other by shifting his body forward and back. Jesse could feel the other man’s cock throbbing, and his own twitching harder against it in return, a strange but electrifying call and response. Gus began trailing his lips down the side of his neck, and Jesse started to feel embarrassed by the almost tender nature of the kisses. But then the softness of his lips was replaced by a fusion of pain and pleasure as he moved down to Jesse’s chest and took a nipple in his teeth, biting lightly. 

When Gus lifted himself off his stomach and reached for the lube he had already placed by the bed, Jesse felt every one of his muscles tense. He told himself he had to relax, or there was no way he was getting through this. And he did relax, somewhat at least, when he saw that Gus was only coating a finger. He pressed the finger slowly inside him, and Jesse exhaled the breath he had been holding. It felt odd, but it wasn’t so bad. Then he added a second finger, extending one deep into him and curling the other upward until Jesse gasped aloud. Finally he added a third one, and began moving them in and out. He felt so completely filled by the three fingers alone, that the idea of accommodating the considerable width of the man’s prick made his stomach drop. With Gus’s fingers still inside him, he took a ragged breath and said, “If I changed my mind, would you stop? Would you stop here?”

Gus looked disoriented at the sound of his voice. “Are you asking that I stop?”

“I’m asking if you _would.”_

Gus paused, as if he wasn’t sure of the answer, but then said, “Yes. I would.”

“Okay…” Jesse took another breath, slightly steadier. “Okay, keep going.”

Gus nodded shortly, and began moving the fingers again, spreading them, stretching him further open. He reached for the lube once more, and then Jesse felt the tip of his cock lined up where the fingers had been moments ago. Although he entered him slowly, there was still a searing pain, causing Jesse to bite down on the inside of his mouth and clench his eyes shut. He reached out a hand and dug his nails deep into Gus’s upper arm. Once he was fully inside him, the pain began to diminish. Gus remained motionless within him, and brought his lips down to Jesse’s in a brief, closed mouth kiss.

After another moment, he began pushing in and out of him. At first Jesse grabbed on to handfuls of the smooth fabric of the sheets beneath him, but then reached his arms behind his head, sliding his hands between the slats of the wooden headboard, gripping on as Gus thrust into him with increasing force. Jesse was overwhelmed by the feeling of pressure building, of being filled beyond capacity. The sensation was incomprehensibly different from anything he had ever experienced before, but at the same time it felt like the long searched for culmination of some undefined need, like a key turning in a lock.

But it was more than the physical sensation that he was overtaken by. It was the complete loss of power over his own being. In the past year there had been countless times when Jesse had felt he was losing control, and in those moments it had always seemed like something was being torn out of his hands, like something he was desperately trying to hold on to would slip through his fingers, sending him into a free fall. This time, it still felt like a free fall, but he had entered into it willingly, and somehow that made every difference. It was like getting high. It was making the choice to jump.

When Gus took Jesse’s cock in his hand he was already so close that it only took a few strokes before he came, harder than he ever had in his life. He could feel the reverberation through his entire body, could not only feel it but see it, bright bursts of light flashing behind his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, he tilted his head a fraction of an inch, and the room began to spin. A few moments later, Gus began moving in and out of him more and more rapidly until Jesse could feel him pulsating inside of him. He collapsed on top of him when he finished.

In contrast to the mixture of continually rising moans and curses that had tumbled from Jesse’s mouth, Gus had been utterly silent the entire time, even during orgasm. But the beat of his heart was thunderous, and it almost felt as if it were pounding into Jesse’s own chest as he lay pressed beneath the other man. Once Gus’s heart beat had begun to slow, he lifted himself up, and then moved back until his head was between Jesse’s legs. He felt Gus’s tongue licking at his hole, then his lips wrapping around it, sucking at the come that had begun to leak out of him. Part of his brain registered that he should probably find this at least mildly revolting, but any such thoughts were outweighed by the need to keep being touched, the need to have his body invaded in ways he would once have shuddered at. 

Gus then positioned himself beside Jesse, and placed his mouth on his, kissing him with such force that he was a little taken aback. But he didn’t try to resist like he had during their last encounter, maybe because this time the kiss felt almost aggressive in its need. And somehow aggression was easier to accept from Gus than passion or affection. He could still taste the other man’s come on his lips. Again, he vaguely wondered if he should feel disgusted by this, but he found he didn’t mind the slightly salty taste on his tongue. Gus sucked on his lower lip, then began frantically exploring his mouth with his tongue and, unlike their last kiss, Jesse gave something back, biting at Gus’s lip and meeting his tongue with his own. 

Eventually Gus drew back, and lay still, staring at the ceiling. After a while, he angled his body toward Jesse, propping himself up on one arm. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, not sounding particularly concerned about the response.

“Little late to check in, yo. But I mean, yeah, it was kind of intense at first.” He could still see the marks his nails had left on Gus’s arm. “But then it was… then it was good.”

“It can be painful at first. It will be easier the next time.”

Jesse wanted to say that Gus was being presumptuous to assume there would be a next time. But no matter how badly he wished it wasn’t the case, he knew that he would end up in this exact position again, lying on this same bed next to this same man.

Gus got up, and instead of putting back on the same clothes he had been wearing before, he opened one of the bureau drawers and pulled out a white t-shirt and some black pants. The pants were a little bit loose, and were made of a soft fabric. Sweatpants. They were nicer looking than the ones Jesse typically wore, but it was still odd to see Gus in something so casual. Jesse could have imagined him being opposed to comfortable clothing on principle. After Jesse had dressed as well, Gus asked, “Would you like something for dinner?”

This time, fortunately, there was no three hour meal preparation involved. Gus opened the fridge and removed some soup he had made the day before to reheat. After they had eaten, Gus heated up some milk in a saucepan, and added sugar, cloves, and a stick of cinnamon. Jesse would have guessed Gus’s drink of choice in the evening would have been some kind of expensive red wine. This seemed more like a drink you would give to a child to help them get sleepy before they went to bed. But it tasted good.

They brought the drinks into the living room. Jesse noticed that even relaxing on a couch, in what was essentially loungewear, Gus’s posture never failed to remain rigidly straight. He wondered if that came from spending time in the military. 

Setting his drink down, Jesse turned to Gus and said, “You know, it’s been almost five months since you promised you’d get a replacement for me. You got, like, any progress on that?”

The expression on Gus’s face was one of irritation, maybe even, disturbingly enough, one of hurt. To be fair, it might not have been the best time to bring up his departure. But Jesse couldn’t afford to concern himself with how Gus felt, even if they were fucking. The man had forfeited the right to that kind of consideration a long time ago.

“Look, it’s not just for me,” said Jesse, deciding to adjust his approach. “I mean, it should be important to you too, right? Like, what if I got sick or whatever? Too sick to work? You want everything to collapse because you never hired a second person?”

“That is my concern, not yours. We will not discuss this tonight,” he said icily.

Jesse knew he should let it go for now, bring it up another day. But he was too angry to stay quiet. “It actually _is_ my concern, when I’m the one doing work meant for two people all by myself. I gave you everything you wanted. I show up every day. I’ve never even been _late._ And you’re not gonna hold up your end of the deal? I mean, I don’t know why I’m surprised. I’m a fucking idiot to have trusted you.”

“Calm yourself. I said that we will not discuss it tonight. Not that we never will.”

“I don’t _believe_ you. You’ll react the same way every time I bring it up, right? You like having complete control over my life. You like having the power to make me miserable. You know what? Eladio, or whatever the fuck his name was, and the rest of those cartel members you put so much effort into taking out- you’re just like them. You enjoy seeing people suffer, same way they enjoyed making you suffer once.”

“I am _nothing_ like them.” Gus’s eyes told Jesse his best course of action at this point would be to shut the hell up. But something in him had snapped, and he couldn’t stop. He stood up and began pacing back and forth in front of the coffee table.

“You are though. You think you’re better than them? That’s a joke. I mean, I bet you told yourself you had this fucking noble reason to kill all those men, right? Like as if your boyfriend’s corpse could give a shit whether or not you got revenge. You just did it for yourself, because you get off on that kind of shit. And you look down on addicts- now that’s ironic. Because tell me the truth, it gets you high right? Not just the murder. Everything that comes with this fucking nightmare of a life you live. It gets you high to keep getting away with it, to keep-”

His words were cut off as he felt a sudden burning pain erupt on his cheek. Gus had stood while Jesse paced the room, and when Jesse had turned back toward him Gus had struck him across the face. They stared at each other in silence for several seconds, and then Jesse said, “Fuck this.” But he said it softly, as if he had trouble gathering the air from his lungs to form the words. He grabbed his jacket and keys, and walked into the unforgivingly cold December night.

***

Jesse lay on his back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. He thought about turning on the television, but the remote was on the other side of the room, so that ruled that out. He was always exhausted after work, but the past few days had been especially tough to get through. He had given serious consideration to not showing up at all. But then the question would surface in his mind whether or not he had overreacted that weekend. Maybe Gus really was intending on figuring out a replacement for Jesse at a later date. 

The strike to his face had been barely hard enough to leave a mark. But in a way, the casual contempt of the gesture made him feel worse than if Gus were to have put his full force behind the blow. Jesse didn’t know why he had made the diatribe in the first place. It’s not that he didn’t think what he had said was true. But why did it really matter what kind of person Gus was? Why should his character feel like a personal offense to Jesse? 

As he asked himself these questions, however, he realized that the answer was fairly obvious. Gus had told him that he saw something in him. And at this point, Jesse was beginning to believe him. Gus was the first person to make such bold claims about the potential for his future, the first person in a long time to make him feel that he mattered. Of course he didn’t want to accept the fact that that same person was a monster. What a sick joke.

The sound of the doorbell startled him out of his thoughts. He dragged himself up off the couch, pulled back the curtain, and saw a dark blue Volvo sitting in the driveway. He had never given Gus his address before, but that was a ridiculous reason to think he wouldn’t already have it, when the man had apparently been able to obtain his blood type without any trouble. Jesse didn’t particularly want to speak to him, but his curiosity about the reason for the visit won out, and he opened the door.

When Jesse swung the door open, Gus entered before waiting for an invitation to come in. Once inside, he gazed around Jesse’s living room, and then said, “The state of your living conditions is concerning. If you wish, I can hire you a cleaning service.” 

Jesse looked around the room. In fact, he had cleaned the other day. There were currently a few empty diet coke cans scattered about, and a thin layer of dust on the coffee table, but besides that he thought things looked pretty decent. He looked back at Gus and said, “You’re fucking unreal. Did you come all the way here to criticize my housekeeping skills?”

“I came to apologize.”

Jesse felt a flare of anger at the idea that Gus had thought he _needed_ an apology, as if Jesse had been sitting around ruminating on what had happened. Even though he had been. 

“Yeah? Apologize for what? For the other day? For the past year of my life? Or do you just want someone to give you a general pardon for, you know, assorted crimes against humanity? I can tell you, if that’s what it is, you’ve come to the wrong fucking person.” He lit a cigarette, partially to calm himself down, and partially because he hoped it would make Gus step back a few paces, not wanting to get the scent of smoke on his expensive looking wool coat and the neatly pressed button-down shirt and tie he wore beneath it. What did he have to get so dressed up for on a fucking Wednesday evening, anyway?

Rather than step back, however, Gus moved closer to him, and said, “I am aware I am entitled to no such absolution. I lost my temper with you, and I wanted to convey my regret. That is all.” When Jesse made no response, Gus continued, “I have no illusions about myself. I understand your perspective more clearly than you may think. But I will not tolerate being spoken to in that manner. Furthermore, what you said was largely inaccurate. I do not, for example, receive pleasure from watching others suffer needlessly. I have obtained satisfaction from witnessing certain individuals experience only what they deserve.”

Jesse wondered why Gus was telling him this, why he had come here in the first place. He didn’t seem like the kind of person who felt the need to defend his actions. He had no idea if Gus actually wanted his forgiveness, or if he just wanted to smooth things over so Jesse wouldn’t give him any trouble about showing up to work. Finally Jesse asked, “Does that make it better or worse?” 

“Does it make what better or worse?”

“I don’t know. I mean, you said you don’t have illusions about yourself. You mean, like, you know who you are, or I don’t know, acknowledge the things you’ve done… right? Something like that? So if you do something wrong, and you know it’s wrong, I mean really _feel_ it, does that make it better because at least you understand that much? Or does it make it worse because you know it’s wrong and do it anyway?” An image of Gale’s face appeared before Jesse’s eyes, and he felt nauseous.

Gus didn’t answer the question. Instead, after a long pause, he said, “Within the next two months I will find a new hire for you to begin training. I promise you this.”

Jesse studied his face, although it wasn’t as if his expression presented any indication of whether or not he was telling the truth. He decided, against his better judgement, to believe him. “Okay. Fine.”

“I will, however, request that you attempt to keep an open mind about your future.” Gus reached his hand out, but it hovered in the air just a few inches away from Jesse’s arm before he dropped it back by his side. 

“Yeah. Okay, whatever.” Jesse had gotten the assurance that he wanted. For now, at least, he could let Gus think whatever he needed to. Gus continued to stand before him in silence, until Jesse finally said, “So yeah… that it? Like, I hope you weren’t thinking about staying for dinner. That’s all I got.” He pointed to two slices of cold pizza that lay inside an open carboard box on the coffee table.

Gus shook his head. “Of course not. I didn’t intend to disturb your evening.” He turned to go, and had his hand on the doorknob when he looked back and said, “Shall I expect you again this Saturday?”

Jesse felt himself shrug his shoulders, even as he was inwardly ordering himself to say no. Gus nodded once, and then left.

Jesse peered behind the window curtain just as the car pulled out of the driveway. He lay back down on the couch, and counted the cracks in the ceiling. Then he stood, gathered up the diet coke cans, and tossed them in the trash.


	7. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of started this thing as a distraction from work stress but basically I'm writing about a character who does nothing but stress out about work..
> 
> Anyway so yeah I read Jesse's myspace page or whatever before writing this chapter, and I want to ask whoever created it for the episode why in their mind Jesse was studying data systems management at one point lol....

_We need love, but all we want is danger_  
_We team up, then switch sides like a record changer_  
_The rumors are terrible and cruel_  
_But honey, most of them are true_

-Taylor Swift

***

Jesse showed up fifteen minutes late, and about twenty pairs of eyes darted in his direction as he slid into a seat at the back of the room. He had actually pictured more people being there. On TV, whenever they showed a college classroom, it looked like a giant auditorium with rows and rows of students in stadium like seating, the professor lecturing from a podium below. But CNM was just a community college, so maybe that was why it was so different from how he had imagined.

If it was upsetting to think that Gus might have believed that Jesse had made that visit to the clinic just because he had asked him to, then the idea of him finding out that Jesse had signed up to take BUS101: Introduction to Business, and thinking it was because of his influence, was about a hundred times worse. He had not, in fact, signed up for the course because of any suggestion made by Gus _or_ Mr. White. He had signed up without giving it much thought at all, but if he had to identify a reason, it was probably because lately he had been going insane with his unvarying routine of takeout and television every single night when he got home from work. 

Having a reason to get out of the house every Tuesday and Thursday evening hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea. He didn’t actually have to do any of the coursework. It would just be an excuse to be around some new people. In the past few months, the only people he interacted with on a regular basis were Gus, Badger, Skinny Pete, and occasionally Mike. The whiplash alone from going from a conversation with someone like Gus to a conversation with someone like Badger was enough to make him feel dizzy. It might do him some good to have a few new faces in rotation, even if he couldn’t get close enough to anyone to share actual details from his life.

He had chosen a business class simply because he didn’t have any better ideas. The only other college course he had ever taken was an online class on data management offered by DeVry University. At the time, his parents had told him that if he were ever to be allowed to visit Jake, then they were going to impose the condition that Jesse show tangible evidence he was making an effort to improve his life. Enrolling in an online course had seemed like the easiest way to do that. He couldn’t even remember if he had passed the class. Probably not.

It seemed that the others in the class were currently going around the room making introductions. After the woman sitting to the right of Jesse had finished speaking, the professor smiled at him and said, “I know you got here a little late, but you didn’t miss much. I was just having everyone give their name, and one thing they want to get out of the class by the end of the semester.”

Not knowing how small the class size would be, Jesse hadn’t been expecting to have to speak at any point. And how the hell was he supposed to know what he wanted to get out of the class? It had barely started. Finally he said, “Uh… well, I’m Jesse, and uh… I’m not really sure what I want to get out of it. I mean, I don’t really know shit about business-” He paused, realizing he had just sworn in a classroom, but no one seemed to care. “I mean, I guess you could say I got some experience in sales, but I don’t know about, like, the technical side or whatever you want to call it. So… yeah, I don’t really know what I want. I guess whatever I get out of it, I’m cool with that.”

The professor nodded. “Well, it’s good to have an open mind. And this is a 101 course for a reason. It’s okay if you don’t know anything yet.”

As the class progressed, he saw those around him begin typing notes on their laptops while the professor spoke. Jesse hadn’t brought his laptop. He hadn’t even brought a pen or notebook. When the professor began listing important dates to remember for assignments and exams, the woman sitting next to Jesse slid him over a pen and a sheet of paper. He mumbled a thanks, but he didn’t really need to make note of the dates. It wasn’t like he was planning on doing much work anyway.

Once the class was over, he handed the pen back to the woman beside him. She looked to be somewhere in her sixties, and her long gray hair was pinned up in a neat twist. As she put the pen back in her purse, she asked, “Is this your first class at CNM?” Jesse nodded, and she went on, “Mine too. I sell jewelry that I make, and I thought this course might be a good way to gain some advice on expanding my sales.” 

“Wait, like, you already have your own business? What are you doing here, then? Shouldn’t you be teaching the class?” said Jesse. It felt strange, having such a normal conversation with someone, like he was exercising a set of muscles he hadn’t used in a long time. “I only work at a laundry-” No, that wasn’t right. He had just been “hired” at Los Pollos Hermanos. What was his job title supposed to be again? “I mean, actually I just started doing, like, transportation for a fast food joint. But yeah, I’m not even close to having my own business.”

The woman laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I just set up a booth at craft fairs occasionally. That’s all.”

“But you make things and people pay money for them? That’s pretty sick, yo.”

“Well, I enjoy it.” She put on her coat. “Take care, now. See you on Thursday.”

Jesse exited the classroom, and walked aimlessly for a while through the halls of the college. It was 9:00 pm, so the building was almost empty. It reminded him of how his high school had felt the evenings he’d had to stay late for detentions. During the daytime, schools always felt like intimidating places, like the air held a certain perpetual tension in it. But at night, devoid of teachers and students, that wasn’t the case. It almost felt calm. 

Eventually, he walked out to the parking lot. He wondered if he should bring his laptop to the next class. No, it wasn’t worth lugging it there and back each time. But maybe he would bring a notebook. If he remembered to. It didn’t really matter.

***

Jesse stood in front of Gus’s desk. It was his first time visiting him at one of his restaurants, unless you counted the failed meeting attempt with Mr. White. The office was so ordinary looking. It wasn’t even an especially large room. It was hard to believe the scale and nature of business Gus probably conducted there. He wondered how often Gus had gotten interrupted on an important phone call with a cartel associate by some teenage fry cook banging on the door because they spilled some ketchup on their uniform shirt and needed a spare. 

There was a chair next to where Jesse stood, but before he could sit down, Gus dragged it to the opposite side of the desk, situating it beside his own chair. “Please, sit. This shouldn’t take very long,” he said, sliding the new hire paperwork over to Jesse. He began signing his name in the appropriate spots, while Gus got up to make a photocopy of his license.

Jesse was still making his way through the forms when Gus sat back down and began working at his computer. Jesse glanced over at the screen, and watched as Gus toggled back and forth between multiple windows: an email he was writing to someone, an Excel spreadsheet containing rows of numbers Jesse had no idea what the significance of might be, but also, more interestingly, CCTV footage from multiple cameras. Jesse didn’t have time to make sense of where each location was, but he definitely recognized the currently empty lab.

Jesse pointed at the screen and asked, “Hey, were you watching those recordings when me and Mr. White hung all that fly paper up in the lab?” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah… never mind. Anyway, I’m done.”

Gus gathered up the paperwork and flipped through it. “Very good. You will also attend a new hire orientation this Thursday. It would be best for a certain number of employees to have at least some recollection of your face. I have scheduled it for Thursday at 7:00 pm, so you won’t have to leave work.”

Jesse inwardly groaned. He could just blow off the class he had on Thursday, but the professor had been so fucking nice to him yesterday that he would feel guilty about it. Besides, he didn’t want to spend his evening getting lectured by Gus on professionalism and work place etiquette at an orientation for a job that Jesse wouldn’t even be doing. The problem was that the very thought of telling Gus that he had enrolled in a college course made Jesse want to cringe. But unable to think of another excuse that would justify his absence, he finally said, “I can’t come. I signed up for a business class at CNM. It meets Tuesday and Thursday nights.”

A smile spread across Gus’s face. It was the first time Jesse had ever seen that measure of warmth displayed on his features. Of course, Jesse had seen him smile during his conversation with Merkert, as well as when Jesse had entered the restaurant that very evening and observed Gus amiably interact with a few customers. But this was different, a real and spontaneous joy, an emotion Jesse hadn’t been sure Gus was even capable of. It made Jesse look away. Gus placed his hand on Jesse’s shoulder and said, “I’m pleased to hear that. I’m sure you’ll find it very rewarding.”

Jesse shrugged the hand off of his shoulder. “It’s one community college class. Big fucking deal. I don’t even plan on trying to pass it. Like, basically I’m just there to pick up some chicks. You know, eighteen-year-olds still living at home and looking to piss off their parents? Shit like that.”

Having seen his classmates, he had zero intention of going home with any of them. But Gus’s pleasure at his news had made him uncomfortable. Apparently Jesse’s comment had remedied that, because the smile vanished from Gus’s face. “I would prefer you not,” he said stonily. It was amazing how much his face could change in an instant. The smile had made him look younger, almost like a different person, like someone Jesse wouldn’t have minded knowing.

“Jesus, relax,” he said, staring at the floor, somehow embarrassed. “Anyone ever tell you that you come on a little strong? I mean, what, you think you own me just because we’ve fucked a few times? You can’t control who else I sleep with.”

“Obviously, I cannot. I am making a request.” 

“Whatever. I guess I’ll have to put that into consideration, since, you know, you’ve always been so goddamn considerate about what I want in life, right?”

“I’m glad you see matters the same way I do,” said Gus, apparently choosing to ignore the sarcasm.

Jesse rolled his eyes upward, in what was intended as a gesture of disbelief, but probably ended up looking more like a plea for aid from above. “So can I go now?”

Gus placed his hand over Jesse’s, stilling the fingers he had been drumming anxiously on the desk. “I have one favor to ask of you. Lydia, whom I’m sure you must remember from our visit to Madrigal, will be arriving in Albuquerque this Sunday for a conference she will be attending the next day. Unfortunately, I will be otherwise engaged during the time of her arrival, so you will have to pick her up from the airport and buy her some lunch. The flight is scheduled to land at noon.”

“You say you’re asking me a favor, but just to be clear, I don’t have a choice, right? She can’t call herself a cab and take herself out to lunch?”

Gus stared at him, which Jesse took as a no. He guessed there were worse things to be asked to do than take a woman out to lunch, so he said, “Fine. _Now_ am I set to go?”

Gus stood and walked in front of his desk, so Jesse got up as well. He was about to grab his jacket off the back of the chair when Gus leaned toward him. For a second, Jesse thought he was reaching for something on the desk behind him, and he tried to move out of the way, but Gus stopped him. Placing one hand on Jesse’s ass and the other behind his head, he pulled him close. He parted his lips and slipped his tongue into his mouth, not with the heat of urgent desire, but almost slowly, as if he wanted to savor the taste. Yet at the same time, he pressed his body insistently against Jesse’s, until Jesse had to stabilize himself against the desk with one hand to keep from being pushed on top of it. Gus thrust forward, grinding his hard on into Jesse’s crotch.

Jesse allowed his mouth to be spread open, allowed Gus to run his tongue over his own. In the past few weeks, his reluctance to this particular activity had somewhat subsided, although he continued to mentally avoid the word kiss… Something about it sounded way too fucking sentimental. But ultimately, it was just another physical act that felt good. It didn’t _mean_ anything. He had made out with plenty of women whose names he didn’t even know. Did that mean he’d had an emotional connection with each one of them? That he had to respect who they were as individuals? The idea was ridiculous. 

For a moment, Jesse lost himself in the taste of the other man’s lips, even began grinding back by pushing himself forward off the desk, but then he remembered where they were, and broke the seal of their mouths. “Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you? The door’s not even _locked.”_

Gus looked toward the door, and for a second Jesse thought he was going to go over and lock it, then return to proceed where he had left off. But instead, Gus took a step backwards and said flatly, “I have to get back to work. You should go.”

Jesse smirked. “What, for real? You don’t want to play out some fantasy where you bend me over your desk and fuck me from behind?”

Holding any type of power over the man, no matter how trivial and no matter how it might demean Jesse himself in the process of exercising it, was still a novelty. There was something satisfying about seeing how his words could have such an effect on someone who was usually the epitome of self-control. As if to verify this power, Jesse could see the bulge that had been moments ago pressed up against him increasing in size. Leaning forward, Jesse gripped the erection tenting the man’s neatly ironed slacks and said, “Look, make sure you lock the door if you’re gonna beat off. Though I gotta think doing that in a restaurant must violate some health codes or-”

 _“Enough.”_ Gus returned to the chair behind his desk. “We’re done here. You can see yourself out. I will contact you when I decide on a suitable date to reschedule the new hire orientation.”

Jesse threw his jacket on, and headed down the short hallway that led into the main floor of the restaurant. There were a few people seated at the booths, but it was pretty quiet. The girl who stood behind the cash register smiled at him. She only looked about sixteen. Must be an after school gig. “Hey,” she said. “Are you starting here soon?”

“Uh… Not really. I mean, I’m doing transportation for vendors, so you probably won’t see me around.”

She twirled a piece of hair around her finger. “That’s cool. You’ll like working for Mr. Fring. He’s a pretty good guy.”

Jesse gave a short, abrasive laugh, and headed for the exit.

***

Lydia didn’t look like she had just gotten off of a flight. Her pale blue blouse and black pencil skirt didn’t display so much as a single wrinkle, her red lipstick looked fresh, and not a hair was out of place in the bun she wore. Although Jesse was no expert, this seemed to somehow defy the physics of sitting in the cramped seat of an airplane for two hours, and then dragging luggage through the airport. He wondered if she had stopped to spruce herself up in a restroom. He could have told her not to bother. Jesse had woken up late and tossed on some clothes he had found scattered on his bedroom floor. They were more or less clean, if slightly creased.

As she slid into the passenger seat of his car, he said, “So, uh, you must be hungry, right? Do you want to stop at McDonald’s or something?”

Lydia looked at him gravely, as if he had just asked her if she wanted to go shoot up with him. “McDonald’s is _exceedingly_ unhealthy. I’m sorry to be an inconvenience, but if you wouldn’t mind, could we stop somewhere else?”

“By somewhere else, you don’t mean like Burger King, I’m guessing? Uh, yeah, sure… I guess I’ll keep driving till I see a restaurant.” First Gus, and now Lydia… for people whose livelihoods were so closely intertwined to the fast food industry, they were pretty damn particular about what they ate.

Eventually Jesse pulled into the parking lot of an Olive Garden. When he noticed the look of dismay on Lydia’s face, he said, “What? Is there a problem with this too?” He attempted, most likely unsuccessfully, to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“It’s just… their food is a little bland, isn’t it? Not to mention it contains a disproportionately large amount of carbohydrates.”

“Like, what, are you telling me Gus brings you to a five star restaurant every time you come to town?”

She sighed. “No, but at least- never mind. This is fine. Let’s eat here.”

As they walked into the restaurant, Jesse looked over at Lydia, and thought, just as he had when they had first met, that she really was an attractive woman. However, when he noticed her glancing uneasily back towards him, he forced his eyes away from her ass and legs. He didn’t want to imagine what Gus’s reaction would be if Lydia later reported to him that she had been sexually harassed by Jesse during their lunch together.

After they were seated inside the restaurant, Jesse ordered some ravioli, and Lydia haggled with the waiter over possible adjustments to various dishes on the menu, for what he felt was an embarrassingly long time. The waiter was getting visibly uncomfortable, and answered every one of Lydia’s questions about ingredients with the line, “I’m sorry, I just started here.” Eventually she settled on a soup and salad.

After the waiter left, they sat across from each other in silence, while Jesse mentally fumbled for appropriate small talk. “So... how long are you in Albuquerque?”

Lydia looked up at him in surprise, as if she had been expecting them to spend the entire meal staring at the table cloth. “Well, today and tomorrow. It’s actually a two day conference, but my daughter’s birthday is on Tuesday, so I’m leaving a little early.”

“Cool. How old is she turning?” He had trouble picturing Lydia as a mother. Of course, not as much trouble as he’d had picturing Gus as a father.

Lydia smiled, her face softening for the first time since he had picked her up from the airport. “She’ll be six. She started kindergarten this fall.”

“Six, huh? Yeah, that’s a really fun age.” Brock was six. Actually, he must have turned seven by now. It _was_ a fun age. Old enough to have a good sense of humor, to interact in a meaningful way, but young enough to still have that constant sense of curiosity and enthusiasm that started to drain away around the time kids got to middle school.

Lydia looked confused. “Gus never mentioned that you had any children. You’re a parent?”

“Uh, no... No, I’m not.” There was an awkward moment of silence. “Actually, I have a younger brother. He's only like fourteen now. So I can remember him at that age, when he was just starting elementary school.” There, now hopefully he sounded like less of a creep. He took a bite of a breadstick and then asked, “Hey, how much did Gus tell you about me?”

“Oh, not too much. But you know, it seems like he thinks pretty highly of you.” Lydia frowned slightly as she spoke, which led Jesse to believe she wasn’t necessarily convinced by Gus’s assessment of him. But Jesse didn’t really give a shit whether Lydia liked him or not. He had partly asked the question because a paranoid portion of his brain wondered whether Gus had mentioned anything to Lydia about him and Jesse… associating outside of work. But he quickly dismissed the idea. Gus was nothing if not private.

Lydia continued, “I don’t think he would have brought you to Madrigal or introduced you to Peter if he didn’t feel like you were someone worth investing time in. But, to be honest with you, when I heard about some of the things that happened last summer, I found it pretty troubling, to say the least. I guess I can’t expect you to answer this truthfully, but are you really committed to him now? What’s changed between the two of you?”

The water Jesse had been drinking went down the wrong way, and he began coughing, a little longer than he actually needed to, because he didn’t want to answer the question. Finally he said, “Uh, look, I’m just- I’m just putting in the work, okay? That’s enough, isn’t it?” He tried to think of something he could ask to change the subject. “Hey, Houston seemed like a cool city. You from there originally?”

She shook her head. “I moved there in my twenties. I grew up in the Boston area.”

Jesse grinned. “Okay, let’s hear it then.”

“Hear what?”

“You know, the Boston accent. Come on, I want to hear it.”

Lydia grimaced. “Oh, God, no.”

Jesse hadn’t really been expecting her to go along with it. He had a feeling that even if she had once spoken with an accent, she was the type who would have put a lot of effort into eradicating any trace of it.

Before Jesse could ask her why she had moved to Houston, their meals arrived. He hated to admit it, but Lydia had been right about the food. It _was_ bland. He had remembered the pasta there being pretty good, but then again, the last time he had been to an Olive Garden was probably when his parents had taken him out to one for dinner on his tenth birthday. He wondered if they ever took Jake to the same place.

As Lydia began suspiciously poking at her salad with a fork, Jesse asked, “So you got any plans for this evening?”

“Well, Gus is having me over for dinner.”

“What, like at his house? Good luck with that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, I guess. Just, in my experience, when Gus suddenly invites you over to dinner it’s not usually great news.” Of course, that wasn’t necessarily the case now. But the memory of his first dinner with him that night in July would always remain imprinted the deepest in his mind.

Lydia shook her head. “I don’t think it’s to discuss business matters. I think he’s just being hospitable.”

“Oh. So you rate high enough for hospitality, huh? Good for you.” He wondered if Gus had been telling the truth when he had said that he and Lydia had never fucked. For that matter, Jesse still didn’t know if Gus was attracted to women. For some reason he doubted that he was, although the only real evidence to support this theory was that he had never remarried. Suddenly curious, Jesse asked, “So, you two have known each other for a while, right? Just professionally? You were never, like, involved or anything?”

Jesse thought he had phrased the question very delicately, but Lydia still looked offended. “Of course not. Actually, it’s one of the reasons I appreciate doing business with him, that he’s always very... well, respectful. And never condescending. Unfortunately, you could say those are somewhat rare qualities in the men you encounter in this type of work.”

Jesse assumed she was referring to the men she had experienced working with at Madrigal, as he doubted Lydia had worked with enough drug lords to make a comparison as to their respective treatment of women in the workforce. The way she spoke about Gus had a certain quality to it that seemed completely at odds with the man she was referring to, and Jesse realized that quality was affection. “Do you _like_ him? I mean, not just working for him. Do you like _him?”_

Lydia looked perplexed by the question. “Do I like him? I’ve known him for nearly ten years, so we’ve formed a decent relationship over that time, if that’s what you mean. Although it’s not as if we have many occasions to socialize if it’s not work related. Why do you ask? You’re saying you dislike him?”

Jesse’s instinctual mental response was _dislike doesn't even begin to cover it..._ But he realized it had become more complicated than that. There was something that continued to pull him back to Gus’s home, and if he was being honest with himself, it was more than just physical desire. The man had an intensity to him that often manifested itself so coldly it could freeze the blood in your veins, but by now Jesse had also observed that same intensity expressed in the form of a quiet kind of charisma that was difficult not to be drawn in by. 

It wasn’t just the manner in which he spoke, which could be captivating when he was in the right frame of mind, but also how he listened. Even if Jesse sometimes found what the other man said to be infuriating, there was still something about conversing with him that made it feel like what Jesse said was the only thing in the world that mattered in that moment. And even if he didn’t want to admit it, there was something intoxicating about having the full attention of someone who was intelligent and successful, regardless of the nature of that success.

Jesse stared down at his plate for several seconds, and then said, “I mean… there are things I like _about_ him. But so what? Like, if you can’t trust a person, then nothing else really matters.” 

Lydia tapped her fingers up and down on the table, an anxious habit Jesse was familiar with himself, and said, “Well… But you can’t really trust anyone. You can think you know someone really well, know them for years and years, and out of nowhere they can do something that changes how you see them completely. You can be hurt by your friends. Your family. It happens every day.”

Lydia stated this with such certainty that he suddenly felt depressed. But then, after thinking about it for a moment, he said, “Yeah, but… Look, I mean, there’s a huge difference between, you know, the _possibility_ that someone _could_ do something to hurt you, and the reality of it. I watched Gus slit a man’s throat with a boxcutter. Like two feet away from me. The blood got on my sneakers. And that was one of his own men. Just a single slip up, and he was done. You know, you like Gus because he’ll buy you dinner at a nice restaurant, hold the door open for you, doesn’t stare at your tits. But if you ever became a liability to him, your ass would be dissolving in hydrofluoric acid before you could blink.”

Lydia winced at the mention of the boxcutter, but recovered quickly. “Do you think I don’t know any of that? I’ve been in this business longer than you have. Do you not understand by now what the cost of doing this kind of business is? Sacrifices have to be made. It’s not personal.”

Jesse tried to take a deep breath. The middle of an Olive Garden was probably not the best place to have an argument of this kind. Despite that, he said, “Oh, it’s not _personal?_ What a fucking consolation that must be to someone bleeding out on the ground. You treat people like they’re, I don’t know, extras in a movie or some shit, like they’re not human. I mean, you love your daughter, don’t you? But it’s like… if some random person’s life don’t mean shit, then what makes you think your daughter’s life means shit? Like, what fucking sense does that make?” 

Jesse knew that his voice was rising, that he was beginning to sound slightly unhinged, like a man holding a cardboard sign ranting on a street corner. He _knew_ what he meant, he just wished he had the right words to say it.

Lydia leaned towards him over the table. “Can you _please_ lower your voice?”

Jesse looked around, and the only one who seemed as if he might have been listening was a teenage busboy clearing dishes from a table next to theirs. He wore a world weary expression that said he had overheard worse at the restaurant.

“Yeah… Sorry,” Jesse said, wondering why he couldn’t just learn to keep his mouth shut. “Just- I don’t know, just forget it. Let’s talk about something else.” 

But nothing else readily occurred to him to talk about, and apparently, neither did it to Lydia, because they both ate the rest of their meals in silence. 

***

“Do you need any help cleaning up?” asked Lydia, looking around the kitchen. Most of the dishes had already been washed or stacked in the dishwasher. Gus found it more efficient to clean as he went along rather than let items pile up in the sink. 

“Thank you, but that’s not necessary. I should take you back to your hotel. I’m sure you must have to wake up early tomorrow morning.”

Despite having known Lydia for a number of years, it was only the second time he’d had her over for dinner in his own home. The last time had been in reciprocation for a dinner she had invited him to at her apartment in Houston. If she had not put forward the invitation first, he might have been more hesitant to have her alone in his home, but she had seemed comfortable with the idea. Both of them were too guarded to ever have a relationship that could be called close, but they were on cordial terms. And that was enough.

As Lydia was putting on her coat, Gus opened a closet door, and shifted some boxes to find what he was looking for. Turning back to Lydia he said, “Do you think your daughter might enjoy these?”

Lydia took the set of coloring books he had handed her, and flipped through their pages. “Oh, of course she would. Thank you very much. But I hope you didn’t feel like you had to go out and buy her something for her birthday?”

Gus shook his head. “It was remiss of me not to purchase something specifically for the occasion. These were in fact left over from my daughter’s intended visit with her own children. Unfortunately, she had to cancel the trip. Before the visit was supposed to take place I had bought some toys, which I have since donated. But I had forgotten to discard the books.”

Gus had made use of the children’s play things by arranging them in his home before having Walter over for dinner. He had not felt that the indication of a family would significantly influence Walter’s trust in him one way or the other; the man never struck Gus as a particularly sentimental type. But he hadn’t thought that it would hurt either, and in his experience, the most effective forms of manipulation were based on some grain of truth. So just as he had once tried to form a connection with Mike over the desire for revenge, he had tried to form a connection with Walter over the urge to provide for family. The latter attempt, of course, had ultimately failed. Maybe because Gus had never been as honest with Walter as he had been with Mike. Or maybe because Walter’s motivation hadn’t strictly been based on his family’s needs to begin with. But it didn’t matter now.

Lydia nodded at Gus’s explanation for the coloring books, but she asked no questions about his daughter, such as where she lived, or whether she was still planning to visit. It was something he appreciated about Lydia, and was perhaps the single quality she shared in common with Mike- a reluctance to ask questions of a personal nature. 

His daughter, who was only a couple of years younger than Lydia, had cancelled her visit because of something that had apparently come up at work, and she had never rescheduled the trip. He hadn’t seen her in person in years, and during the rare times they spoke over the phone, their conversation was stilted. He didn’t know if his wife, who had died in a car accident over ten years ago, had ever told their daughter the details of his life in Chile. But she must realize he had a reason for leaving the country and acquiring a change of name. After assuming an alias, he had considered that it might be simpler for both of them to sever his connection with her completely, but found he was unable to do so, and eventually contacted her. They would never be close, but things had worked out for the best, hadn’t they? She now had a successful career and a family. She must be happy. But then, he had no way of truly knowing.

He realized he had been staring at Lydia. He knew the cold night air would clear his head, and he was about to open the door when she placed her hand on his arm to stop him. “If you don’t mind, there’s something I wanted to bring up with you.” 

“Of course. What is it?”

She stared down at her hands, obviously uncomfortable. “Well… today at lunch, with Jesse… It’s just- the things he said, they were a little concerning to me. To be honest, he doesn’t seem very stable. Or at least, not reliable enough to depend on for this scale of work. And he seems to really- he seems to take serious issue with you personally, as well. I know you’ve said his actions last summer were based on the influence of the chemist he was working with, but… it doesn’t seem to me like it was _only_ the other man’s influence that caused him to be so problematic.”

Gus wondered what Jesse had said that had so worried Lydia. When would the boy learn how to filter what he said aloud? 

“I understand your apprehension,” he said. “But Jesse _has_ been a reliable employee for the past six months. He’s reported to work consistently, and even taken on extra hours when I have required it of him. We may have had conflicts in the past, but he has proven his devotion to me. In more ways than one.” Gus realized that to refer to Jesse as devoted to him was stretching the truth, and bordered on an outright lie. But things could change. They had already begun to.

Lydia looked at him oddly. In his mind he replayed the last words he had spoken, and hoped there had been nothing suggestive in them. He didn’t think so, but you could never be too cautious. Years ago, he had been careful, so careful, and still people had talked. He knew that things were different here. But he also knew, with absolute certainty, that even if he lived another twenty years in this country, it would never cease to feel like something to be hidden with the utmost discretion. Not out of shame, and not even necessarily out of fear of opprobrium, but because it was always safer to keep what you valued most close to your heart, away from the eyes of the world. Still, part of him did regret that he could not ever disclose to Lydia, or to anyone else, the nature of his involvement with his current chemist. It was like possessing a beautiful artifact you could never display before others.

After a period of silence, Lydia said, “Well, I trust your judgement, of course.”

They walked out to his car, and he drove her back to her hotel. After letting her out at the curb, she stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds before turning back toward the car. Gus rolled down the window. She bent down so that she was level with him and said, “Sorry, it’s just- I wanted to mention that the next time you can make it to Houston, I’d like to have you over again. I think the last time you saw Kiira she was barely three. You’d hardly recognize her. Only if you have the time, of course.”

Gus nodded. “I would like that very much.”

She gave him a brief smile, and then turned to go. He watched her as she strode down the sidewalk, black heels clicking on concrete. She soon reached the large automatic doors at the front of the hotel, and the lights above the entryway bathed her in a warm glow before she disappeared inside.


	8. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some more small BCS references in this chapter.. I know it's kind of dumb to use Lyle this way, but I don't care?? (If Lyle and also the student film crew don't appear in season 6 I will be severely disappointed.)
> 
> Also I can't believe this is the second time in this thing I'm using a plot point from an episode of The Office, but I was thinking about when Ryan invited Michael to speak at his business school.

_Drug dealing just to get by_  
_Stack your money till it gets sky high_

-Kanye West

***

He picked up Jesse’s hand, running a finger over the black ink that decorated his wrist. Gus used to find the tattoos somewhat off putting, unnecessary defacements that marred the beauty of his skin. But as he had become increasingly familiar with the body that now lay beside him, he had found a certain appreciation for the tattoos, especially the ones normally hidden by clothing. The fact that only he could see them somehow increased their appeal. He would have asked if they had any significance, but he highly doubted that they were selected with any real thought. 

He placed a kiss on the portion of the tattoo that covered Jesse’s hand. Pulling out of his grasp, Jesse said, “What are you _doing?”_ Gus had noticed by now that Jesse had oddly paradoxical reactions to physical intimacy. Only minutes ago, on the very bed where they now lay, Gus had his fingers, cock, and tongue deep inside him, with no reservations on Jesse’s part. And yet his face turned red because of a kiss on the hand? It wasn’t something Gus completely understood, but he supposed it didn’t matter very much. What mattered was that he continued to come to him. They had fallen into a rhythm where he generally arrived at Gus’s home on Saturday evenings. It sometimes felt to Gus like a continuation of the dream he had experienced late last summer. When he was with Jesse, he felt content, and yet it was the surreal and fragile contentment of a dream that he felt like he could wake from at any moment.

Jesse may have felt slightly embarrassed by how aggressively he had pulled his hand away - the boy’s emotions were so mercurial that Gus wouldn’t have been surprised by the sudden change in attitude - because he rolled over to face Gus and placed a hand on his chest. He slid it slowly down his body until it rested on his stomach. He doubted Jesse would have touched him in such a way so casually just a few weeks ago. Hand still stroking his skin, Jesse said, “You know, for someone however the hell old you are, you’re not in bad shape. But I mean, when the fuck you got time to exercise?”

Gus placed a hand on top of Jesse’s, and brought it back up to his lips. This time he didn’t pull away. Then he said, “Proper time management. It’s not terribly complicated.”

He expected a sarcastic response, but Jesse looked thoughtful, and said, “I guess. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like time slips away faster each year, like, I don’t even know how. What’s up with that? Like, when you’re a kid summer vacation lasts about four years, you know? But now I blink and six months have gone by. While I’m doing all this pointless shit.”

Gus knew he couldn’t give Jesse a satisfactory answer to this question, and that in fact the problem would only worsen the older he became, so he decided to change the subject. “You may be pleased to know that I have decided on a potential candidate for your assistant in the lab.”

Jesse sat up. “What, really?”

Gus sat up as well, pulling a sheet up over his lower half, and said, “Yes. I’ve been looking specifically at past recipients of the chemistry scholarship I once mentioned to you. I had to consider a variety of factors, the details of which need not concern you. Suffice it to say I have one candidate whose current circumstances and psychological profile may make him appropriate for the position.”

“Psychological profile? How do you get that?”

“I included it as a part of the application process for the scholarship.” 

“Oh. That’s not creepy at all. And no one got suspicious that question number six was like, _What’s your stance on the moral implications of manufacturing illegal drugs for the public?”_

“Obviously it’s a bit more subtle than that.” The vagueness of the questions rendered the assessment of little use, but it was better than having absolutely nothing to go on. “In any case, I still need more information before progressing further. Therefore, next weekend you will interview the individual that I have in mind. Do not say my name or give any details about the position. Merely give him a feel for the nature of the work, and try to gauge his interest level.”

Jesse stared at him. “Are you _joking?_ You want _me_ to do it? Is that just so you can throw me under the bus if something goes wrong? And how the hell am I supposed to know how he feels about the job if I can’t tell him what it is?”

His voice was becoming unnecessarily loud, but Gus tried not to let it irritate him. By now he was used to the younger man’s overreactions. “I am asking you to do it because you are the one who will have to work with him. And I am confident you will figure out a way to obtain the information from him that you need without revealing too much. Then, contingent on your evaluation of him, I will take the next steps.”

Jesse looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Hey, can I smoke in here?”

“You may not.” It was a question Jesse had asked on different occasions in the living room and in the kitchen, but apparently for some reason he had thought the answer might be different in the bedroom. 

“Yeah, okay. Just wanted to make sure. Anyway, what happens if things go wrong? What if he goes to the police and tells them I was trying to pull him into something shady? Or even worse, like, what if you give him a clear offer and he goes to the DEA?”

“If we both handle this process carefully, then hopefully that won’t be an issue. But I will have him monitored very closely.” 

Jesse looked at him warily. “What’s that mean? Like you’ll off him if he looks like he’s gonna be a problem? Jesus Christ. You know, I remember one time you told me that even you have your limits, but I gotta say, when it comes to a moral code, you set the bar pretty damn low for yourself.”

“I did not say that any harm would come to him.” Of course, that’s what he had implied. But he highly doubted it would come to that. Even the most law abiding individuals would have a difficult time walking away from an annual salary in the millions.

Gus was about to get out of bed and begin dressing, when Jesse put a hand on his arm and said, “Hey, wait. Actually, if I’m gonna go through with this interview thing, there might be something you could do for me too.”

There was a tinge of embarrassment to his voice, like he was reluctant to bring up whatever it was he had on his mind. Curious, Gus asked, “And what might that be?”

“Well, I don’t know, but…” He paused, as if reconsidering, but then continued, “So, I’m taking that class, you know? And the professor said we can bring our grade up by ten points if we bring in, like, a business owner we know or whatever to speak to the class and answer some questions. If I got ten extra points on my average, it could be the difference between me passing or failing the class. I mean, I don’t really know why I’m asking. It’s not like I give a shit whether I fail or not, but…”

Gus could tell, based on his defensive tone, that Jesse _did_ care whether or not he passed, but was for some reason embarrassed by this fact. “It would be my pleasure to do so. And you shouldn’t behave as though it were shameful to put effort into a pursuit. I’m proud that you’re taking this seriously.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Yeah. What a fucking heart-warming conversation this would be if you hadn’t threatened to murder a guy like thirty seconds ago.”

“I never made any such threat.” Jesse’s constant moralizing, as if Jesse himself had not killed a man when it suited his needs, could grow tiresome. It reminded him of the conversation he’d had several weeks ago with Lydia, when she had said she was worried whether or not Jesse had the right temperament for this work. Gus had never brought up the conversation with Jesse, so he asked, “Incidentally, what did you speak with Lydia about when you took her out to lunch? She seemed concerned over something you had said.”

Jesse looked down at his hands. “Oh, yeah. I guess… I said I didn’t trust you.”

Gus thought this more or less went without saying, but Jesse stated it heavily, as if making a confession. He wondered for a moment if he should tell Jesse that he belonged to him now, that he would never let any harm come to him. But the words would probably be meaningless to Jesse. And it would be a lie. Gus knew by now it was impossible to always keep such promises. So he said, “I don’t expect you to trust me.”

“Yeah? Is this the part where you tell me I can’t _really_ trust anyone? Want me to cue the dramatic music? No wonder you and Lydia get along.”

“That’s not what I was going to say. I would, however, say that even a tenuous form of trust can take years to develop.”

“Years, huh? Guess we’ll never have it then. Considering if things go good with the new guy, I’ll be out of your life forever before the year is over.”

Gus was bothered by the comment, but not as much as he might have been previously. He had come to understand that Jesse often spoke impulsively and with the purpose of eliciting a reaction. “We’ll see,” was all he said in reply.

Jesse seemed irritated by the response. “Do you still think I’ll change my mind? Just because you don’t treat me like shit for a couple months, you think that means I owe you my life all of a sudden? I know you don’t really care about me. Because that’s how you are with everyone in your life. You treat them pretty fucking great until they cause even the smallest problem for you, and then it’s zero to slasher flick in a split second.”

Gus assumed he was referring to Victor. “Unfortunately, this is not a business where I can abide careless errors by those I employ. It’s a matter of self-preservation. But you are more than an employee.”

“What am I then?” Jesse’s face and tone of voice were unreadable, and Gus couldn’t tell if he was looking for a certain answer. Gus himself didn’t know how to respond to the question, so he stayed silent. Jesse then said, “But forget about me trusting you. Why do you trust _me?_ How do you know I wouldn’t purposely do something to fuck things up for you?”

“Because I know what kind of person you are. You are loyal. Walter treated you despicably, and yet you were willing to risk almost anything to protect him. If that’s the strength of devotion you would display for someone who deserved it so little, then I can only imagine the loyalty you might show to someone who made a true attempt to earn it.” Gus didn’t know whether or not Jesse would accept this explanation, but he meant it sincerely. He had been both frustrated and amazed by the intensity of Jesse’s loyalty to his former partner.

Jesse looked at him carefully and said, “And you think you can? Earn it?”

“I don’t know.” Again, an honest answer. Gaining his full trust after all that had transpired would require time, possibly more time than Jesse was willing to give him.

Jesse shrugged, and began dressing. “I think I’m gonna get going.” 

On most Saturdays Jesse stayed for dinner. Gus had eaten dinner alone for so many years that he had become accustomed to it, but now he appreciated the weekly source of company, even when they ate in silence, a record playing in the background. Neither did he mind conversing with him, despite their divergent interests. Jesse knew so little of the world, but that would change over time, and he was more intelligent than Gus had first given him credit for. In fact, he was more intelligent than Jesse himself seemed to recognize.

For a moment, Gus considered asking him if he might be convinced to stay a little longer. But he had to maintain a certain level of dignity, so he only nodded, and began to dress as well. When he finished, he saw Jesse was still watching him from the doorway. Hesitantly, he said, “Okay… Then I guess I’ll go?” 

Gus wondered if he wanted to be asked to stay. But since he couldn’t be sure, he said, “Yes. Have a good evening.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Jesse said as he turned to go. He must have flicked the hallway light off once he reached the stairs, because suddenly darkness flooded the now empty doorway. Gus walked over and closed the door, and then began remaking the bed. 

***

Jesse looked at the clock, and wondered if Gus would show up on time. Probably. But part of him hoped he would be a few minutes late so that this time Jesse could be the one to lecture him on _proper time management._ However, true to form, he arrived at the classroom at exactly 8:30. The professor turned to Jesse and, gesturing for him to come to the front of the class, said, “Why don’t you give us a brief introduction first. Tell us a little about the person you invited to speak tonight.”

A brief introduction? Jesse had prepared literally nothing, but he guessed he could probably improvise something. He slowly got up out of his chair, and walked to the front of the room. Everyone looked expectantly toward him, and he suddenly felt incredibly awkward. He cleared his throat and began, “Uh… So, Gus Fring, uh, he’s a restaurant owner? Los Pollos Hermanos. You probably know it. Yeah. I’ve been, uh, working for him for… like, a couple months? So yeah, he owns about…” Shit, how many restaurants did he even own? “Well, he owns, like, a lot of restaurants.”

Jesse thought that was a sufficient introduction, but the rest of the class and the professor were still staring at him. The professor asked, “Anything else you’d like to add? What are the qualities that, in your view, Mr. Fring displays in relation to how he runs his business that we as a class could learn from?”

Jesse stared blankly at the class. What the hell was he supposed to say? Talk about what a good boss Gus was? Jesse wasn’t _that_ great an actor. Finally he said, “I mean… I guess he really worked his way up? Yeah. He’s a hard worker. And I guess you could say he’s really, uh, ruthless with the competition.”

The professor seemed satisfied with that response, and Jesse sat back down. Gus replaced him at the front of the room, and began speaking. He looked professional as always, in a white dress shirt and a dark gray jacket. He sounded professional as well. Jesse realized that, given the extent to which Gus was involved in the community, he must be used to public speaking, and it showed. He spoke with a confidence that almost made Jesse lose himself in the illusion that the man who stood before him was a boss that he could admire, someone he could be proud to be associated with. But of course, the reality was that his classmates were currently raising their hands to get business advice from a drug lord, and there was something morbid enough about that fact that Jesse almost felt guilty for inviting him to speak. But he guessed what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Gus spoke until 9:00, and even when the class had ended, he stayed behind to continue a conversation with the professor and answer a few more questions for a couple of students. Jesse waited in the hallway until everyone had finally left. “Hey,” he said when Gus approached him. “Who knew you could be so talkative?”

Putting his coat on, Gus said, “Jesse, if you would ever like to have a discussion with me about business administration, I would be happy to oblige.”

“Yeah, I’m good. But, uh, thanks for showing up.”

Gus nodded, and then, as the two of them began walking down the hallway, asked, “Is there somewhere private we could briefly speak?”

Jesse looked around. “There’s literally no one here.”

“All right. I wanted to give you this. It’s a profile of the man you will be interviewing. It’s from the records of his application for the scholarship, so the information is not recent. But it will give you an idea of whom you’ll be meeting with.” Gus handed Jesse several sheets of paper. Most of the information was irrelevant, but the front page displayed a thumbnail sized photo of a somber looking young man whose name was apparently Lyle. Gus peered down at the paper as well and said, “He was a former employee of mine before he started at UNM. When I found out he was considering studying chemistry, I suggested he apply for the scholarship. But as I’ve told you, don’t bring up my name at this point. You will have to act as a representative from the fake company he’s been set up to interview with.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Jesse still felt uneasy. There were so many ways this could go wrong. And if Lyle didn’t seem like the right fit for the position, how long would it take Gus to find someone else? “Hey, how many of these things have you given out? The scholarships, I mean? Like, do you have any backups if this guy doesn’t work out?”

“Two are awarded each year. But it’s not that simple. Just because an individual was a past recipient doesn’t necessarily make them a suitable candidate for this work.”

“Two every year? And you cover all four years of undergrad? That’s a lot of money to burn each year just to find potential meth cooks.” Although, he supposed, for Gus it almost certainly wasn’t. Even the income from his restaurants alone would probably cover the expense easily.

“It’s not very much compared to other yearly expenditures. And that wasn’t my sole purpose for setting up the scholarship.” He paused. “It’s something of a memorial to the man whose name it bears. The chemist I knew in Santiago.”

Considering how carefully Gus seemed to safeguard the personal details of his past, Jesse was surprised he would have used the man’s real name to title the scholarship. But then again, the name would only mean anything to Gus. Jesse looked back down at the application. _The Max Arciniega Chemistry Scholarship._ Confronted with the reality of a name, Jesse suddenly felt uncomfortable. _Max._ It somehow sounded too modern. When Jesse pictured Gus’s life before coming to the states, it was always in tones of black and white or sepia, scenes from an era too long ago to contemplate. He looked back at Gus and asked, “Hey, how long have you been here? In the US, I mean.”

“Approximately twenty years.”

“Oh.” It still seemed like a long time to Jesse, but maybe it wasn’t, to someone Gus’s age.

Jesse folded up the papers and put them in his jacket pocket. Assuming things went well, this was it, wasn’t it? The beginning of the end of this nightmare that had started when Mr. White had first approached him. Maybe it was a little early to allow himself to feel any hope, but just for one night he could pretend that he knew for a fact that everything would work out fine. That was a state of mind he hadn’t experienced in so long that it almost overwhelmed him.

He felt a surge of energy, and when he looked at Gus, he seemed a convenient outlet. He suddenly began to imagine what it would feel like to pin him to the wall right here and now, to run his hands over the smooth fabric of his shirt, to feel the hardness of his chest beneath it, to crush his lips against his while his hands continued to explore the rest of his body… Obviously, that couldn’t happen. But then his eyes drifted to the single user restroom that was located in an alcove at the end of the hallway. “Come here,” he said, gesturing to Gus to follow him toward the restroom door. He opened the door partway and stared at Gus, wondering if the man would immediately grasp his intention. It seemed that he did, but his hesitancy was clearly apparent. He took a step back, eyes shifting toward the hallway. 

“It’s okay,” said Jesse. “No one’s around.” He grabbed Gus’s hand, and though at first he thought he might pull away, after a moment he allowed Jesse to lead him into the restroom. Jesse locked the door, and then began acting out the scene he had just visualized. He pressed Gus against the door, and opened his mouth against his with an urgency that he imagined must have taken Gus aback, given that normally Jesse wasn’t the one to initiate physical contact. But Gus quickly matched his pace, hands roaming Jesse’s body with same pitch of fevered need, returning the kiss with the same level of force, as if it had been years since they had touched instead of a matter of days.

Jesse undid Gus’s pants, and grasped the man’s cock beneath his underwear, enjoying the feeling of firmness encased in soft cotton. He pulled the pants and boxer briefs partway down Gus’s thighs, and then undid his own jeans, pulled down his own boxer shorts. Since Jesse wasn’t the one pinned against the door, the jeans slid a little further down his legs, and he realized he probably looked pretty stupid since he was still wearing a t-shirt and jacket. But he didn’t really care. What mattered was how the man before him looked, and there was something about seeing Gus so formally clothed, but with his swollen prick on full display, that made Jesse painfully hard.

Gus took Jesse’s cock in his hand, and pressed it against his own. Both of their dicks were already leaking and he used the fluid as a sort of lubrication as he began jerking them off in tandem. To Jesse, having his dick rubbing up against another man’s somehow felt even gayer than taking it up the ass, but it could always get him off. It felt like receiving a rush of vital energy, like he could feel the blood flowing beneath the other man’s skin as they pulsated against each other. And he liked the visual, the contrast in color between the two of them, the sight of their come mixing when they both finished. This time, however, Jesse came first. Gus grabbed him a paper towel, and Jesse pulled his jeans back up after cleaning off.

Jesse was about to reach out to finish the other man off when Gus placed his hands on Jesse’s shoulders, firmly pushing him to the floor. Jesse let himself be pushed down onto his knees, but he could feel his stomach lurch. Choking on a dick wasn’t his idea of a great time. He was relatively sure that if he refused to follow through with the act that was clearly being requested of him, Gus wouldn’t push it. It was something Jesse had declined to do previously, and the man hadn’t seemed particularly offended. But Gus had done it for him multiple times without hesitation. Maybe Jesse could try it this once, just to see what it was like. 

He situated his face between Gus’s legs, and the scent of his skin alone would have been enough to make him hard if he hadn’t just come. His skin smelled like sex, whatever the hell that meant. He had no better way of describing it. He was still for a moment, and then began by tentatively licking at the slit at the tip of his cock, then sucking on the head. He had received enough blow jobs in his life that he shouldn’t have had to put much thought into the next steps, but he wasn’t sure if it would be better to try to take him all in at once, or work up to it. He decided on the latter, so he removed him from his mouth, and lifted up his dick so that he could cup his balls, appreciating the feel of them in his hand before he began sucking at them. Then he licked the length of the underside of his cock until he reached the tip and could resume sucking at the head.

Jesse sometimes found the complete lack of vocal feedback he received from Gus during their sexual encounters to be unnerving. At the moment, Gus could be in rapture or he could be bored as hell and Jesse would have no clue. But then he felt Gus grip roughly at the back of his head, his fingers digging at the skin since Jesse’s buzzed hair provided nothing to hold on to. Maybe that was an indication he was doing _something_ right. He began trying to take more of Gus inside him, but whenever he reached the back of his mouth, Jesse would begin to gag, his eyes watering. After a while, his jaw began to ache as well. How did all the chicks he’d ever been with, and Gus as well for that matter, make this look so effortless? Eventually Gus placed one of his hands on his face, tilting it slightly upward, and said quietly, “Don’t force it. And look at me.”

The idea of making eye contact through the remainder of this experience sounded excruciating, but if that would get him off quicker, the sooner this would end. So Jesse raised his eyes to meet his, and placed one hand around the base of his cock, taking the rest of it less than halfway into his mouth. He proceeded to move that portion in and out of his mouth, attempting to add some pressure with his tongue, and moving his hand up and down at the same time. After this continued for a few more minutes, Gus pushed Jesse’s shoulders backward, signaling him to release him from his mouth. As soon as Jesse had done so, he felt hot ropes of come hitting him in the face.

Remembering they were technically in public, he restrained the impulse he had to yell out in irritation that Gus hadn’t given him any warning. It’s not like Jesse was an expert on blow job etiquette - he himself had been guilty of the head push women always complained about, and at least Gus hadn’t done that - but he felt it was somewhat demeaning to have a man come on your face without first being asked permission. Gus ran his fingers through the copious amount of the substance now coating Jesse’s face, and pressed the fingers to his lips, then into his mouth. Jesse was still slightly annoyed, but as he sucked the come off the man’s fingers, he had to admit he hadn’t hated it.

However, when he stood up and looked toward the mirror, saw his face still partially covered in come, he felt his stomach twist with- shame? Not exactly… He had gotten pretty good at compartmentalizing his current sex life. It was more like sadness. But over precisely what, he didn’t know. He wet a paper towel and wiped his face off, and then opened the door. Gus glared at him, presumably annoyed that Jesse had flung open the door before ascertaining if anyone was walking by in the hallway. 

“What, you worried what it’ll do to your reputation if you’re caught getting sucked off in a public restroom? Trust me, I’m not crazy about the idea either. I told you, it’s always empty on this floor after class.” Although the disturbing thought did suddenly occur to him that a student could have easily walked by from another wing of the school and stopped to wait for the restroom. Well, it’s not like this was something they were going to make a habit of.

Together they walked out of the building and stood at the edge of the parking lot. Before Jesse headed to his car, he turned to Gus, not quite making eye contact, and said, “So was it, like, you know, okay or whatever? Even though I couldn’t- I don’t know. You know what I mean.” He wasn’t asking because he cared, not really. He was just curious. 

Gus looked over his shoulder, as if there might have been someone standing behind them listening to their conversation, even though the parking lot was clearly empty. Then he said, “Seeing you on your knees for me was more than enough.”

Jesse felt his face turn red, and he was thankful for the dim lighting in the parking lot. He muttered goodbye, and walked back to his car. Once seated, he took out the now crumpled piece of paper that displayed the face of his potential replacement. He could imagine it so clearly, the process of training someone new, and how good it would feel to know the last day he would ever have to spend in the lab was approaching. But then it was as if he hit a wall, and he couldn’t see any further beyond it. When he tried to think about his future it was like looking into a void. _Whatever._ Just take one fucking day at a time, right? 

But he had never been great at following his own advice.

***

Jesse arrived at the coffee shop early, but he spotted Lyle already seated at a table toward the back of the room. He didn’t look like he had changed much from the time the photo pinned to his scholarship application had been taken. He was wearing a button-down shirt and suit jacket, as was Jesse. One thing he had learned from Gus was that as long as you spoke well and dressed decently you could get pretty much anyone to trust you.

“Hey, are you Lyle?” Jesse reached his hand out for him to shake. “I’m Jesse…” He should probably give a fake name, right? “I’m Jesse Johnson.” It wasn’t great, but it was better than the one he had once given to Jane. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Lyle, looking a bit nervous, but not like too much of a wreck. “I don’t know if you drink coffee, but I ordered you one when I got mine.”

Jesse sat down and took the drink from him. “Great. Thanks. So, uh, what do you know about this position so far?” He was asking more for himself, since Gus hadn’t really given him any details on what potential job offer Lyle had been lured to the interview with.

“Well, the email I got wasn’t very descriptive. And I had a hard time locating the company when I looked online, so to be honest with you, I wasn’t even sure that it wasn’t just junk mail. But I’ve been looking to move on from my current company for a while now, so I decided I had nothing to lose. Sorry, that’s probably not the best answer to give you, but…”

“No problem. Yeah, well, I don’t know if you remember your time working for Gus Fring, but I guess he thought pretty highly of you, and-” Wait… _Shit._ He wasn’t supposed to mention Gus’s name. Christ, less than a minute into the interview and he had already fucked it up.

Lyle’s face lit up. “Yeah, of course I remember him. Wait, do mean your company somehow got my name from Mr. Fring?” 

Jesse shook his head emphatically. “No, no. He has nothing to do with it really. Uh, yeah, he’s just a mutual acquaintance of ours I guess, and uh, maybe your name came up somehow when we last talked?”

“Oh. Well, he was pretty good to me when I worked at one of his restaurants. That was my first few years out of high school. It was- well, it was kind of a difficult time. My stepdad passed away around the time I graduated, and my mom had some health problems of her own. And I have four younger siblings, so… so yeah, it was hard. But anyway, Mr. Fring was actually the one who encouraged me to apply for this scholarship he had set up for students in the chemistry department at UNM. I don’t think he had full control over who got selected, but I never would have applied in the first place if it wasn’t for him.”

As Lyle spoke, Jesse shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He didn’t need to know the guy’s life story. Especially considering what he was about to try to rope him into. It also depressed Jesse to know that Lyle would soon find out the man he saw as a kind benefactor had in reality been acting out of selfish motives.

Lyle continued, “But he treated all of his employees well. I remember this one time, there was this- well, it’s hard to explain, but I guess it was an attempted robbery, and he offered counseling for all of us to help cope with it.”

Jesse had just taken a sip of his coffee, and he came about the closest he ever had in his life to doing an actual spit take. _Counseling?_ Gus was un-fucking-believable. 

“Listen, Lyle, do you think we could go someplace quieter to talk more about the details of the job?” Jesse still had no idea what he was going to say, but it would probably be easier without crowds of people surrounding them.

“Actually, my apartment is just a block from here. If you want, we can discuss things there.”

“Yeah, that’s perfect.”

They walked in silence down the street and then up the stairwell to Lyle’s apartment. Inside, cardboard boxes and piles of clothing and assorted clutter were scattered all over the floor.

“Sorry for the mess. It’s just- well, my girlfriend- I mean, my ex-girlfriend- she’s in the process of moving out, so…” Lyle stared at the ground. Jesse was struggling for a sympathetic comment to make when Lyle looked back up and said, “Okay, we can sit down over here.” He gestured to the couch, and after shifting a few boxes around, they both sat.

Jesse took a deep breath, and decided it would be better to get this over with quickly. “Okay, let me get to the point then. So, uh, I can’t give you all the details about this position yet. Someone else will reach out to you for that. I just have to, you know, see if you’re interested or not.”

Lyle looked understandably exasperated. “Okay, but how am I supposed to know if I’m interested if you can’t give me any details?”

“Well… I can tell you that if you accept, you’ll be making a yearly salary in the millions. I mean, actually I don’t know the exact figure, but like, you get the idea.” Gus hadn’t told him whether or not he could bring up money with Lyle, but he needed _something_ to work with here.

But Lyle shook his head. “I knew when I couldn’t find anything about this company online something was up. What is this, some kind of scam? You get me to fill out some paperwork with my social security number and a voided check so you can steal my identity or something?”

This was going great. Why the hell had Gus sent _him_ to do this again? He tried to come up with something clever that would make Lyle believe him, but all he could think to say was, “Look, it’s the truth, all right? I’m not going to ask you for any personal information. And I told you, someone else will contact you to, like, verify all this shit. The thing is, this job, it really is in chemistry but… the reason it pays so much, it’s because it’s not strictly, you know… _above board._ Do you get what I mean?” Lyle stared at him, and then slowly nodded. Jesse attempted a smile, hoping he looked reassuring and not manic. “So then, what do you think? Any interest?”

Lyle continued to stare at him in silence, but then finally said, “Well, if I’m pretending to go along with the idea this isn’t a scam or something, then it’s still hard to say without knowing all of the details. But… I don’t know. Again, just pretending this was for real, that kind of money would be hard to say no to, wouldn’t it?”

“So you wouldn’t have a problem with the extra risk it might involve, or like… slightly bending some, uh, established rules?” Jesse was trying as hard as possible to avoid using the phrase _breaking the law._ He needed some deniability in this conversation.

“Theoretically, I guess not, if the pay off was high enough. With so much money… there’s a lot of good I could do for the rest of my family. For their futures.”

“Yeah, sure. I mean… but that’s kind of a slippery slope though. That ‘ends justify the means’ kind of shit.” God, what the fuck was he saying? He needed Lyle to accept this job as fast as possible, not scare him away from it.

But Lyle just shrugged his shoulders and said, “I guess so. Is there anything else you need to tell me, or are we done?”

“No, I guess that’s it.” 

Jesse didn’t exactly know what would happen next, but he assumed Gus would contact Lyle in the near future. He wondered how Lyle would feel when he found out the truth about his former manager. Would he feel betrayed? Would he feel stupid? Those were feelings Jesse could relate to more closely to than he would have liked. Not with Gus, of course, because he had known who he was from the start. But with Mr. White, sure. Suddenly he remembered what Gus had said about trust taking years to form. Why had Jesse been so quick to commit himself so fully to Mr. White? Sure, he had been his teacher, but he hadn’t been in his life all _that_ long. Was Jesse that desperate for direction, so incapable of making his own choices, that he’d had to latch on to the first authority figure that had stumbled into his life? And now wasn’t he making the same mistake with Gus? But Gus had said he didn’t expect Jesse to trust him. Illogically enough, there was something reassuring about that.

Lyle coughed, obviously hoping Jesse would take the hint and exit his apartment. But Jesse turned to him and asked, “What would you do if someone turned out different from how you thought? Like, they did something to- to I don’t know, like, hurt you in way… in a way you never expected?”

“Is this still part of the interview?”

“No. I’m just asking.”

Lyle glanced at the carboard boxes by his feet, and then said, “I don’t know. I guess I’d… try to move on. But every situation is different. So I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“Yeah. Never mind.” Jesse didn’t know why he had asked. This interview had been awkward enough already. “Anyway, someone else should be contacting you soon. But just- I don’t know, if you decide you’re not into this, just forget it, okay? But keep it to yourself. There’ll be- well, there might be, like, some eyes on you, if you know what I mean.” Gus would probably be pissed that Jesse had said anything about Lyle being watched, but Jesse didn’t want another dead body on his conscience if things went downhill from here.

Lyle laughed. “Are you serious? That sounds like a line from a movie.”

Jesse sighed, and decided he should probably just get out of there before he made things any worse than he already had. He and Lyle said their goodbyes, and Jesse headed for the stairwell. On the way down, he passed a young woman with bright red hair. She wore a frown and had her hands buried in her pockets. He wondered if it could have been Lyle’s ex-girlfriend, heading up to finish packing her things. 

He hoped, for Lyle’s sake, that she would get moved out quickly. He hoped that her memory wouldn’t linger.


	9. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some references to a season 5 episode of BCS, but again, not major plot points.

_I only call you when it’s half past five_  
_The only time that I’ll be by your side_  
_I only love it when you touch me, not feel me_  
_When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me_

-The Weeknd

***

Considering the experience he’d had last summer, Jesse would have been fine with never stepping foot in Juárez again. But when Gus had informed him that he would be conducting some negotiations there over a weekend in late March, he had been adamant that Jesse accompany him. He wasn’t completely clear why. Maybe Gus saw this as some sort of on the job training, but Jesse didn’t see how he could get much out of it given that his Spanish was limited to vague memories of some phrases he had been taught in high school and a few words he had picked up from friends.

Not only did it seem pointless for him to be there, but he also was apprehensive about any possible repercussions for what had occurred last July. But when Jesse had brought this up, Gus had brushed it off. “Any loose ends related to the events of last summer were taken care of months ago. Do you think that I would create a situation for myself where I was unable to do business with anyone in the entire region?” Jesse assumed that “taking care of loose ends” was a polite euphemism for having anyone who might have made serious objections to Gus’s actions in Juárez discreetly disposed of. He decided he didn’t want to know how this had been accomplished or exactly how many loose ends there had been.

In the end, Jesse had agreed to go without putting up too much of a fight. This might have been because he was feeling better than he had in months, now that Lyle had officially accepted the position as his trainee. The guy wasn’t the easiest person to talk to in the world, but being around someone who was a little socially awkward beat working in isolation for over forty hours a week. And more importantly, he was Jesse’s exit ticket to this entire business. Jesse could manage to pretend he was invested in all of this for a single weekend when in reality he knew how close he was to getting out.

The villa where Gus, Jesse, and Mike were staying wasn’t as large as Eladio’s had been, but it was still a decent size. It looked to Jesse like a photograph out of a travel magazine advertising resort hotels. After he had been shown to his room, he wandered around the property, and eventually sat down by a table on the veranda, enjoying the feeling of warm air on his skin. In Albuquerque, the past few weeks had been fairly cool.

“I’m going for a drive. Would you be willing to join me?” 

Jesse hadn’t heard Gus approach, and he nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of his voice. “Jesus, could you try to at least scuff your shoes on the ground or something when you walk up behind a guy? Might save me from a heart attack next time. But, uh… yeah. Where to?” 

“Follow me.” 

Jesse got up and followed Gus toward the garage, annoyed but not surprised he hadn’t answered the question. Although, maybe it was progress that he had asked Jesse to accompany him on the drive rather than ordered him to.

“Who owns this place, anyway?” Jesse asked as they walked.

“I do.”

“Oh. Well, it’s a step up from your place back in ABQ. I mean, not like that place isn’t nice, but…” But it was a fairly average middle or upper middle-class home. In Albuquerque, the only items Gus seemed to spend a fair amount of money on were the suits that hung in his closet, and possibly his kitchen appliances. Whereas here, every detail of the villa was tasteful yet clearly high-end. This contrast was further emphasized when Gus led Jesse to a black BMW.

“So this means you’re not immune to nice cars after all?” Jesse said as he slid into the passenger seat.

“It was not my selection. I have a staff member in charge of all purchases for this property.”

“What, you’re telling me you would rather be driving an ancient Volvo?”

“I have no preference. But it is sometimes necessary to alter how one presents oneself based on the location.” Gus pulled the car out of the driveway and onto the road.

“You know, I get that you gotta keep a low profile back home. But like… don’t you make a lot of money just from your restaurants? You could spend a ton more money and no one would think twice.”

“I prefer to stay as inconspicuous as possible.”

“Just seems kind of like, I don’t know, depressing to think about millions of dollars rotting away.” For that matter, Jesse knew that by now he too had collected quite a vast amount of money, which he would have no way of using in its entirety without raising suspicions. Sometimes he was relieved that he had no easy way to spend it, because when he thought about the money and how he had earned it, he felt guilt gnaw at his stomach.

“I do find certain uses for the profit I make. For instance, I finance the village we are currently headed towards.”

“Finance it? What’s that mean?” Jesse looked out the window, and wondered how long it would take to get to their destination. Maybe he should have asked that before agreeing to come along.

“Public works. Medical costs and school tuition for residents. Any other needs that arise.”

“Okay… But why? You just like having a place you can go where everyone worships you?” He understood the purpose of Gus’s charitable work back in Albuquerque. It helped uphold the image that he needed to present. But Jesse was at a loss for why he would give such monumental financial assistance to some remote village. 

“They are not aware I am the one who provides the funding.”

This didn’t exactly surprise him. Gus was certainly prideful in his own way, but he also never struck Jesse as the type of person who needed to have his ego stroked. Question still unanswered, he pressed, “What is it then? Is it like a mid-life crisis kind of deal? Like you had your near-death experience last summer and found yourself staring down an eternity burning up in a lake of fire? Decided you’d try to score some points in the credit column just in case?”

“I began this arrangement quite a number of years ago.”

Jesse realized he wasn’t going to get any more out of him. He leaned his seat back, and decided to rest his eyes, still drowsy from their early morning trip. He must have ended up drifting off to sleep, because when he opened his eyes it appeared they had arrived.

Opening the car door, Gus told him, “I need to speak with a few different people while I’m here. Remain in the area. I will have you join me later for a meal before we go back.”

It felt good to stretch his legs, but Jesse wasn’t sure how he was supposed to kill the time while he waited. He decided to pick a random direction and start walking. As he passed through the village, he encountered several people, some that stared at him, some that ignored him, and some that waved in greeting. Eventually he came to a clearing where a couple of soccer nets were set up, and a group of boys who looked to be around the same age as his younger brother were kicking a ball around. When they noticed Jesse watching them, one of the boys kicked the ball in his direction.

Jesse had never really played soccer in school. Gym had been one of those classes he had consistently skipped. But he had nothing better to do at the moment, so he made an attempt at dribbling the ball a few feet, and then kicked it toward the net. When it went rolling past the boy who was apparently playing goalie and into the net, Jesse pumped both fists in the air. The boys grinned and clapped, but immediately afterward, he watched as another boy shot a ball towards the net and the goalie blocked it with lightning speed. In other words, it appeared they had let Jesse have the goal.

“Hey, you don’t gotta go easy on me.” He received blank stares in response. He tried to dredge up some Spanish. “Uh… _más rápido,_ okay?” The kids seemed to get the gist of what he was trying to say, and they continued the game at their normal pace. Jesse’s role amounted to little more than standing near the sidelines and occasionally kicking the ball in the direction of another player, but there were definitely worse ways to pass some time.

He lost track of time as they played. When the sky turned to shades of orange and red, he decided he should head back before it got dark, and waved goodbye to the kids. After walking for fifteen minutes or so, he reached the town center again. He still didn’t see any sign of Gus, so he sat down on a bench, appreciating the soft breeze on his face and the gentle sound of water flowing from the large fountain that stood a few yards away. Actually, he thought, the fountain looked slightly out of place. The structures in the village were all warm shades of red or brown, the angles soft. The fountain before him was sleek and black, formed in the harsh angles of a series of descending V shapes, which the water cascaded over.

He stood back up, began idly pacing near the fountain. He noticed some words carved into one side. _Dedicado a Max._ He had seen the same name somewhere recently, hadn’t he? After a moment’s thought, it clicked into place. It was the same name that titled the chemistry scholarship.

“Are you ready to eat?” Gus was standing only a few feet away from him, but Jesse hadn’t noticed until he spoke, and for the second time in one day he jolted at the sound of his voice. He felt like he had been caught doing something inappropriate, like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to. The fountain was in the middle of the public square, and yet he still felt like he had somehow invaded Gus’s privacy by approaching it.

Jesse nodded, and Gus led him into a nearby home. Gus exchanged a few words in Spanish with the woman inside while she placed some bowls filled with stew on the table for them. They ate in silence, and then left after the woman cleared their dishes away and she and Gus made their farewells. She hadn’t eaten with them, and Jesse wasn’t sure if she was the owner of the home, or a cook.

Once they had returned to the car, Jesse asked, “Do you go there pretty often?”

“Not so often. Two or three times a year at most. I have people who can assess the needs of the area and allocate funds accordingly, but occasionally I like to visit and speak with the residents myself.”

Jesse wanted to ask why he had chosen that specific village as the place to dedicate a structure to the man he had lost; he was pretty sure Gus had said the man was from Chile like him, not Mexico, so what was the connection? Maybe it had just seemed like a peaceful location, and nothing more. Jesse felt uncomfortable about raising the question, so he would never know.

By the time they returned, it was dark. Gus turned to Jesse and asked, “Do you know where my room is?”

“Yeah.” It was in the same wing as the rooms he and Mike had been led to when they first arrived.

“Then come to me in half an hour.”

Jesse didn’t like the idea that a maid or some other staff person who resided at the villa might happen to pass by and see him enter Gus’s room at night. But then, if someone did see him, maybe all they would assume was that Gus had invited him into his room to discuss something business related in private. So he nodded. 

They got out of the car. Far off in the distance, Jesse could see the lights of the city sparkling in the night. He gazed at the sight for a few moments, then lifted his eyes upward to the stars, bright pinpoints shining like echoes of the lights below.

***

He watched as Jesse lay down on the large bed, clothes already thrown to the floor. He was on his back, and this was typically how Gus preferred him. He liked being able to lean down and kiss him while he was still inside him, and liked to watch the movement of his lips as he moaned out expletives. He liked to see the blue in his eyes whenever they flew open, a shade that changed with the light and conveyed his emotions so clearly. Gus couldn’t imagine moving through the world with such eyes; they revealed too much.

But tonight, he spun his hand in the air, gesturing for Jesse to flip over. “I want you on your hands and knees.”

He positioned himself on the bed behind Jesse, placed his hands on his ass, then spread him open with his fingers. It didn’t take as long to prepare him as it once had. The first few times the boy had been so tense that it had made it difficult to enter him. But now, although he would never describe Jesse as precisely relaxed in his presence, he no longer displayed the high level of anxiety that had once made his muscles go rigid at his touch. Still, Gus took his time, because he enjoyed the sensation of manipulating him with his fingers, the control he could exercise.

Eventually he lined his cock up with his hole, at first merely rubbing the head against the outer ring of muscle, which provoked Jesse to groan, “Can you hurry it the fuck along?” Gus fulfilled the request, and pushed fully inside him, gripping his hips so harshly that the pale skin would probably bruise. He went fast and hard. Jesse had gotten to a point where he could take it. As his speed increased, Jesse’s cries grew in volume, until Gus reached one hand around to cover his mouth. Normally he liked that Jesse was loud, liked that he could elicit such sounds from him. But he didn’t want his voice to carry over to the hallway. While Gus only rarely made use of the residence, it was occupied throughout the year by several staff members who lived there with their families. It was unlikely that any of them would wander over to this wing late at night, but it wasn’t impossible. And of course, Mike was staying only a few rooms down the hall.

Due to the frantic pace, they both finished quickly. Gus fell on top of him, took a few moments to catch his breath, then leisurely kissed the back of his neck, wanting to prolong the time until he would have to pull out. Finally they separated, and both lay on their backs. Gus turned his head toward Jesse, observed the rise and fall of his chest. He could have stared at him for hours, but whenever Jesse noticed he was being intently looked at, he would always shift self-consciously, flinch as if his gaze caused him physical pain. So Gus let his eyes move past him, toward the door on the opposite wall that led into the bathroom. Sitting up, he said, “I’ll draw a bath.”

Jesse got up as well. “I guess I’ll go then.”

“No. I meant for the both of us.” He pulled on a black robe that lay on an armchair near the bed. 

“That sounds pretty fucking awkward.” Jesse paused, and then asked, “Like, how big is it? The bathtub?”

“Fairly large.” 

Gus went into bathroom, unsure if Jesse would follow him. But after a few seconds, the door opened behind him. The bathtub was beautiful, a square structure covered in aquamarine tile, and it truly was large, spanning most of the length of the bathroom wall. But up until now he had only ever used it to function as a shower. He switched the showerhead on, then laid his robe on a towel rack. 

“I thought you said you wanted to take a bath?” said Jesse, as Gus stepped over the edge of the tub.

“It’s better to clean oneself before bathing.” He gestured for Jesse to join him beneath the water.

“Uh… Yeah, that’s news to me. But whatever.” He stepped next to Gus beneath the showerhead, but as soon as the water hit his skin, Jesse jerked back. _“Fuck!”_

“What’s wrong?” 

“What’s _wrong?_ Are you serious? That water’s fucking ice cold!”

Jesse’s sense of melodrama would never cease to amaze him. “Of course,” he said, attempting patience. “We need to remain cold. It will enhance the pleasure of a hot bath.”

“No way. I’m out.”

“Fine. I’ll increase the temperature.” Gus turned the knob a fraction of an inch. He then poured some soap on a wash cloth, and begin scrubbing himself. It never took him longer than three or four minutes at the most to complete a shower. When he had first started his military training, the showers in the barracks had been timed to shut off after a few minutes, and he never lost the habit of cleaning himself as efficiently as possible. When he finished, he noticed that Jesse had barely gotten wet. Gus took the wash cloth he had been using and began rubbing Jesse’s back.

“I can handle that, _thanks,”_ Jesse said, glaring as he snatched the cloth out of his hand.

“Then hurry up.” Gus stepped back so that Jesse could submerge himself beneath the water. He quickly wiped himself down with the cloth, complaining under his breath about the cold the entire time.

They then both stepped back out of the tub, and Gus flipped a lever so that it began to fill with water. The edge of the bathtub was nearly a foot wide, so he sat down on it while he waited for it to finish filling, and Jesse sat on the closed lid of the toilet, still shivering. “Hey, can I at least have a towel? I mean, I know you’re a sadistic fuck and I don’t want to ruin your evening with my comfort, but-”

Gus tossed him a towel, trying not to show his exasperation. “As I said, the cold was intended for your benefit.”

When the bathtub was full, they entered the water at opposite ends. He could tell by the look on Jesse’s face that the hot water felt as good to him as it did to Gus. He hadn’t taken a bath in years. Maybe in decades. It had always seemed like an overly indulgent waste of time. 

“So… how often do you do this?” Jesse skimmed his hand over the surface of the water, his eyes following the ripples that formed.

“Take a bath?”

“Fuck guys who work for you.”

Gus wondered if this mattered to Jesse, or if he was only curious. “I rarely engage in sexual encounters.”

Jesse looked skeptical. “Really? Like how often? Before me?”

Gus had to think for a moment. “Since I came to the United States… I would say there have been four or five occasions.”

“Wait, do you mean there were four or five different men you saw more than once? Or like four or five _individual_ hookups total?”

“The latter.”

Jesse’s eyes widened. “Jesus _Christ._ Four or five times in the past twenty years? That’s… that’s _tragic,_ man. No wonder you had so much energy to funnel into building a meth empire. If you just got laid more often maybe you could’ve chilled the fuck out a little. But I mean, I guess you’re getting it now and it hasn’t helped much on that front.” He was quiet for a moment and then said, “Were they like me? The others?”

“Like you? How do you mean?”

He looked embarrassed. “I don’t know… American? Younger than you?”

Gus shook his head. “You mean from the United States originally? No. I believe they were all from Latin America like myself. Their ages varied. But I remember very little about them. They meant nothing to me.”

“Yeah? And do I? Mean something?” 

His voice was casual, as if he was indifferent about the response. His face was slightly red, but that was probably the heat from the bath. Yet the question still hit Gus with an unexpected amount of force.

“Yes. You mean something.”

Jesse looked away, then said, “I lost someone too, you know.” 

Gus was unsure how to respond to this non sequitur. After a moment, Jesse continued, “I mean… I was just thinking about it because of the place we went to today. With that fountain or whatever.”

Gus hadn’t realized that Jesse had even noticed the dedication on the fountain. It was purposely inconspicuous. When he’d had it built, he had considered not putting a plaque on it at all. He would know the meaning of the structure, and that was all that mattered. But in the end, he had decided he liked the visual of the name carved in stone.

“Anyway,” Jesse went on, “I had this girl, and she was like… she was really funny. Like, maybe you wouldn’t realize it at first, because it was kind of like, in a sarcastic kind of way. But I don’t know… She was just so good to talk to. She made me think about things kind of different, you know? Did you ever meet someone like that, where they say shit, and maybe you don’t get it at first, but like, it makes you look at things in a new way and you don’t even notice till later? And, uh, she was a really good artist. I’m not just saying that, either. She was a total professional at it. But it’s like… no one’s gonna remember that kind of shit. All people will think about when they hear her name is how she died. That really sucks. I mean, it fucking sucks.”

Based on reports Mike had made to him, Gus already had some knowledge about the death of the woman Jesse was referring to. But Jesse had never brought her up before. Gus could have told him that it didn’t matter how anyone besides Jesse himself remembered the woman. To be spoken of so reverently by even one person was more than many people on this Earth were likely to receive after death. But Gus believed words of consolation at best tended to be met with disregard, and at worst could be a form of cruelty, like an empty glass offered to a man dying of thirst. So he was silent for a moment, and then said, “Thank you. For coming with me today.”

“Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

Before long, the bathwater began to cool. Once they had let the water drain and dried themselves off, Gus said, “Stay with me tonight.” The words were delivered as an order, not a request, but he wasn’t confident that Jesse would agree. They had never slept in the same bed.

After a moment of hesitation, Jesse nodded, and they went to bed.

***

Heavy curtains blocked the windows in the room, so when Jesse opened his eyes, he couldn’t tell if the sun had already risen. Gus still had his arms wrapped around him, holding him so close that Jesse could feel the man’s cock pressed up against his ass. It felt undeniably good to be embraced in someone’s arms, as long as he didn’t think too much about the person those arms belonged to. He didn’t want to leave the warmth of the bed and expose himself to the cool air of early morning, but he knew he should go back to his own room. There was a clock next to the bed, but it was too dark to read the time.

Gus must have felt him shift, because he began stroking his arm, then kissed his shoulder. Jesse rolled over and whispered, “Hey, can I turn on the light? I want to see the time.” He then switched on the lamp next to the bed. It was quarter past 6:00. He lay down again, facing Gus, and said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up this early.”

But Gus already seemed fully alert. “I haven’t slept this late in a long time. Generally I wake by 4:00.”

“Oh. Well, I think I’m gonna get up. Go back over to my room.” He wanted to continue to lie in the other man’s arms, to stay in bed another two hours, then fuck even harder than they had last night. But he knew Gus probably had to make preparations for the meeting that would take place that afternoon. Also, repeating what they had done the night before in the light of day somehow seemed like it would cross a line he wasn’t ready to. So he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and began gathering up his clothes.

When Jesse exited the room, he closed the door carefully, not wanting it to accidentally slam shut. When he turned around, and saw movement out of the corner of his eye, he froze in place. He forced himself to look to the right, where he saw Mike standing near the end of the hallway, which led out onto a balcony that must have provided a spectacular view of the rising sun.

He had never felt mortification this severe in his entire life. His whole body felt like it was burning, like thousands of fire ants were crawling over his skin. Mike must have known it was the room where Gus slept; they had all been led to their rooms at the same time. There was the possibility that Mike would just conclude that Gus had brought him into his room to discuss the plans for later that day. But this early in the morning? And Jesse knew his face had already betrayed him. He could tell from the heat he felt spreading over his cheeks that even in the faint light of morning it would be clear how red he had turned. He wondered if he should say good morning, try to act casual. But he could barely breathe, and the words would come out sounding strangled and only make the situation worse. 

He went back to his own room, lay down on his stomach on the bed, groaned into a pillow. He stayed that way, face down, without the will to move, for a long time.

***

As far as Jesse could tell, the negotiations Gus had come there to carry out had gone fine. But Jesse still didn’t understand why he had needed to be there as well. Obviously Mike had come in case any trouble arose. But Gus had never even fully explained to Jesse the nature of the business he was conducting. He was starting to feel like his sole purpose for being there was so that Gus could fuck him in a new, picturesque setting, like he had wanted the business trip to double as some kind of twisted version of a vacation. 

This feeling was heightened when Gus came to Jesse that evening and told him he was taking him out to dinner. Back in Albuquerque, Gus had never asked Jesse to accompany him anywhere in public. Maybe he felt more freedom in a place they wouldn’t be recognized. After what had happened that morning, Jesse wanted to say no, but Gus was insistent.

The restaurant looked expensive; all of the people he saw seated were formally dressed. He was surprised Gus hadn’t made him borrow an outfit to wear like he had in Houston. The two of them were seated at an outside table on the terrace of the upper level of the restaurant. When a waiter walked over to them, Gus spoke to him in Spanish, apparently placing their orders.

After the waiter had nodded and taken away the menus, Jesse said, “What, you don’t think I can handle ordering my own food?”

Gus looked surprised. “You don’t speak Spanish.”

“Yeah, but I can read a goddamn menu. They actually have Mexican food in New Mexico, in case you never noticed.”

“You will enjoy what I ordered for you, _mi amor.”_

It was true that Jesse’s Spanish wasn’t great, but he understood the term of endearment. He shot Gus a look, but his face was turned toward the view of the city in the distance. Was this how Gus was going to start talking to him now? Suddenly Jesse remembered the question he had asked last night. _Do I? Mean something?_ The memory made him physically cringe. God, why had he said that? He had tried to ask the question lightly, but when the words had come out of his mouth, he had realized, God fucking help him, he cared about the answer. And when Gus had responded yes, Jesse had never felt so simultaneously filled up and hollowed out.

Soon their meals were brought out. Jesse took a small taste, and while he could tell the food was just as exquisite as Gus had promised, he had very little appetite. Gus took a sip of wine, and then reached a hand across the table, laced his fingers through Jesse’s. It seemed like a brazen display of affection to make in public, but their table was in a secluded corner of the terrace, and there were only a few other diners on this level of the restaurant. Jesse looked down at the hand entwined with his, the candle in the center of the table, the expensive meals before them. Suddenly he felt nauseous. He became dizzy, and his head began to pound. 

He abruptly stood up, his chair making an abrasive scraping sound as he roughly pushed it back. “I… I don’t feel so good, I- I’m just going to…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence. He just knew he had to leave. So he walked across the terrace and inside the restaurant, then descended the staircase to the ground floor. He opened the first door he came to, which led out to a pathway that wound through a small garden. Fortunately, there were no other people there. It was a beautiful spot, with a small fountain and a marble bench where he imagined couples would sit and talk after their meals. But somehow, the beauty of his surroundings only increased his distress.

He put his hands on his knees, tried to slowly inhale and exhale, but his chest felt tight, and each breath he took was shallow. When he straightened his back again, he saw that Gus was standing several feet away from him. “Are you ill?” he asked.

Jesse stared at him, and then said, “What is this?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… what are we doing? What are we _doing?”_ Gus didn’t respond, so Jesse continued, “You know I want out of this business. Like, maybe you pretend different, but you _know_ that, right? So what happens then? You’re just gonna let me walk out of your life?”

Gus was quiet for a long time, his face impassive. Finally he said, “Regardless of whether or not you remain in my employ, I wouldn’t want that, no.”

Jesse could have cried but instead he let out a derisive burst of laughter. “And I’m just supposed to go along with it, ignore literally everything I know about who you are so I can play-act like I’m your _boyfriend?”_ He spat out the word like a slur. “And, like, I hate to break it to you, but no matter how progressive your fake fucking circle of friends and associates in Albuquerque are, they’re gonna think it’s a little much that you keep a twenty-six year old meth head as a live-in fuck toy.”

“You are being absurd.”

“Yeah, because this whole _thing_ is fucking absurd. I’m done, okay? Whatever this is, it’s over. If you want to talk to me, to see me, it’s for work, and that’s _it._ Do you get it?” Jesse searched Gus’s face for any sign of emotion, but it remained completely neutral, which infuriated him. “I said, do you _get_ it?” 

Gus only stared blankly at him, and then walked away. Several minutes passed, and Jesse began to wonder if he had left the restaurant without him. But eventually he returned, and said, “I’ve paid the bill. We can go.”

They drove back in silence. When Jesse got back to his room, he collapsed face down on the bed, just as he had that morning after seeing Mike in the hallway. He tried to will himself to sleep, to unconsciousness. After an hour or so, he drifted off, still wearing his jeans and sneakers.


	10. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to overcome my hatred of semicolons. Is it working.. not really.

_Say you want me back in your life_   
_So I’m just a dead man crawling tonight_   
_Because I need it, yeah I need it all of the time_

-5 Seconds of Summer

***

Mike wasn’t sentimental. He had committed himself to working for Fring, to carry out whatever that may entail, and he no longer dwelled for very long on the consequences of those actions. There had been a time, back when he had first assumed the role of the kingpin’s right hand, when he had let guilt creep in, and it had nearly killed him. So no, he couldn’t afford to be sentimental, not when Stacey and Kaylee relied on him.

Still, if he was being honest with himself, he had developed a certain amount of affection for the kid. He wasn’t completely sure why. He could say for sure that it wasn’t because Jesse reminded him in any way of Matty. That would be the reason if his life were some maudlin daytime TV drama, the episode description in the TV Guide reading something along the lines of _Old Man finds healing for loss of son through a newfound connection…_ Yeah, that was bullshit. In fact, Jesse was nothing like Matty. Jesse was a live wire; Matty had been calm and steady. Jesse was brash and sarcastic; Matty had been unfailingly polite and sincere. Jesse ran his mouth nonstop; Matty had used his words sparingly- although not as sparingly as Mike. Mike was quiet because it kept people at an arm’s length, whereas Matty had been quiet because he was thoughtful, a good listener.

Well, maybe Jesse and Matty were alike in one way. Just like Matty, Jesse seemed to retain a spark of innocence stemming from a keen sense of right and wrong, no matter what he went through. This sensitivity would mean that it would always be a struggle for the kid to make his way through the world, and there was nothing Mike could do to help him with that. Especially in a business like this. It was why it hadn’t even occurred to him to offer Jesse any words of comfort when Walt was killed, even though Jesse, for whatever misguided reason, had obviously been attached to the man. Jesse was the one who had signed himself up for this line of work, even if he now regretted it, and he must have known by now that meant he had signed himself up to deal with death and pain on a regular basis.

But what Mike had witnessed that early morning during their most recent trip to Mexico… Jesse hadn’t signed himself up to deal with something like that. Mike’s first instinct had been to try to explain it away. Just because he saw the kid exiting Fring’s room didn’t necessarily mean he had spent the night there. But Jesse’s reaction when he had realized Mike had seen him spoke volumes. He had never seen a person turn such an intense shade of red. And on the trip back, there was a palpable tension between Jesse and Gus that hadn’t been there before. Clearly, the situation was problematic, and Mike had gone back and forth on whether or not to say anything. He knew it was none of his business, but the question of whether coercion was involved made him more uneasy than he could readily stomach. 

The moment came, after concluding some business in Gus’s office, when he knew he had to either bite the bullet and say something, or just forget it completely. He vacillated for a few seconds, facing the doorway, and then turned back toward Gus’s desk and said, “Before I go, I have a… concern I’d like to bring up.”

Gus looked at him, waiting for him to go on, but Mike was unsure how best to phrase what he needed to say. Eventually Gus prompted, “Yes? What is it?”

After a few more moments, Mike said, “I’m concerned that you may have too many expectations of Pinkman.”

There was a beat of silence. “Do you care to elaborate?”

“I saw something indicating that you might have… compelled his involvement in your life outside the scope of work.”

Mike could tell he had caught him off guard. The man was undoubtedly hard to read, but Mike had known him long enough that he could recognize certain small signs that conveyed his emotions. In this case, a brief glance downward, an almost imperceptible tensing of the muscles in his hands.

Gus met his gaze, and said, “May I ask what you are suggesting? Are you implying that I forced Pinkman into something against his will?”

The man’s voice was even, but from the look in his eyes Mike could tell he was livid. Well, it was too late to walk away now. “I’m not necessarily saying you forced him. But based on the nature of your past interactions with the kid, based on the nature of your working relationship, if you- well, if you asked something of him, he might not have felt like he had much of a choice.” 

_“He is not a child.”_ Gus enunciated each word slowly and carefully, as if this basic information had managed to escape Mike. “He makes his own decisions.”

This was true enough, on the face of it. Jesse was in his mid-twenties. Mike briefly wondered if Gus had raised any children. He remembered a mention of a daughter that had been planning to visit at one point, but Mike got the impression she hadn’t been in his life for quite a while. If she had remained in his life, Gus might have better understood that at Jesse’s age a person could be an adult and yet still carry remnants of the raw fragility of childhood. 

Ultimately, however, Gus was correct. Jesse was responsible for his own choices. If the involvement between the two of them was consensual, then it wasn’t Mike’s place to comment on it, despite the fact that he didn’t see any possible way it could end well for either of them. 

He nodded toward Gus, and left the office. There was nothing more he could say. He checked his watch, and saw that if he were to take a drive by the laundry, he would reach it just as Jesse was likely to be finishing his shift. Maybe he would swing by. It wasn’t too far out of his way home, anyway.

***

Jesse had written down the address on a piece of paper, but now he could barely make out his own handwriting. He turned on the light in his car, squinted down at the paper, and then looked up at the number on the house across the street. Yeah, he was pretty sure this was it. 

When Mike had stopped by the laundry the other day and asked Jesse if he wanted to join him for dinner at his daughter-in-law’s house, his first impulse had been to say no. Mike had never invited him to dinner before, so what other reason could he have besides wanting an opportunity to berate him for sleeping with their boss? But, he reasoned, if Mike had wanted to tell him off, he could have done it then and there at the laundry. Also, Mike’s daughter-in-law and granddaughter would be eating with them, and it wasn’t as if Mike could bring up anything so uncomfortable in front of his family. 

And Mike had said his daughter-in-law was planning on making meatloaf and baked potatoes, which, to be honest, was a selling point. Jesse wasn’t the greatest cook, and even if he had been, preparing a meal to eat alone somehow always felt depressing. For months he had essentially lived on fast food and take-out… and the Chilean dishes Gus would cook for him, although their dinners together had come to an end. In any case, there was something appealing about the idea of eating the sort of meal he had grown up with. 

He shut off the engine of his car, but didn’t immediately get out. Now that he had arrived, part of him was beginning to regret agreeing to come. But eventually he forced himself out of the car and walked up to the front door, where a woman who introduced herself as Stacey greeted him. Once inside, he met Mike’s granddaughter Kaylee, who looked to be around ten years old. Seeing Mike interact with his family was almost as strange as it had been to watch Gus interact with his customers at Los Pollos Hermanos. How could they do it, switch back and forth between personas so easily? Didn’t it exhaust them?

The food was delicious, the conversation pleasant. But Jesse still felt uneasy about Mike’s motives for inviting him. What if it hadn’t been in order to lecture him, but had been a gesture of pity? What did it say about the state of Jesse’s life if he had fallen so low that he could garner sympathy from _Mike?_

When they had finished eating and Stacey began to clear the dishes away, Mike turned to Jesse and said, “I normally go for a walk after dinner. How about you join me.”

That was about the last thing he wanted to do. Looking toward Stacey he said, “Hey, there’s, like, a lot of cleaning up left. Don’t you want some help?” He hoped his voice didn’t sound too obviously desperate.

Stacey shook her head. “Thanks, but I’ve got it. It’s a nice evening, so get some fresh air.”

“Let’s go.” Mike headed to the door. Jesse braced himself as he followed him. This had to be it. Mike was going to bring up what he had seen at the villa. Jesse felt his heart rate increase, a drop of sweat roll down his back. He had never been this nervous to be alone with Mike, not even when he had thought the guy was going to waste him in the desert.

Daylight was beginning to fade, but warmth still lingered in the air. They walked in silence. Two minutes passed, five, ten. Still nothing. He began to wonder if Mike wasn’t going to say anything after all, or if he was just purposely biding his time to make Jesse as uncomfortable as possible.

Suddenly it occurred to him to question why he _was_ so uncomfortable. Was it because Gus was their boss? Because he was a man? Because he was a fucking sociopath? Probably a mixture of all three. But when it came down to the issue of Gus’s character, who was Mike to judge Jesse for associating with him? Mike may not have had a close personal relationship with Gus, but he had willingly worked for him for years, hadn’t he? He had devoted more of his life to Gus than Jesse had. 

“How do you do it? How do you work for him?” Jesse’s voice sounded gratingly loud to his own ears as it pierced the silence.

“How do _I_ work for _him?_ In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly a saint myself.”

“Yeah, but… Okay, let me rephrase it, then. How do you do any of it? I mean, how do you live with yourself? How the fuck do _I?”_ Jesse knew his voice had taken on a whining quality to it, that he sounded melodramatic. But he didn’t care. He was just so tired. Tired of trying to keep himself from disintegrating, the guilt eating through his skin like acid. Tired of always feeling confused and uncertain. Tired of feeling caught in the past and terrified of the future. Tired of wanting what he knew was wrong. Tired of wanting to do something right in his life for once but not knowing how.

Mike remained silent as they continued to walk, until Jesse concluded he wasn’t going to get a response. But finally he spoke. “Well. Life is complicated.”

Jesse wasn’t sure if there was any answer Mike could have given him that he would have found satisfying, but if there was one, it sure as hell wasn’t that. “Life is complicated? Wow, that’s really insightful, Mike. That’s definitely some wisdom I’m gonna carry with me to my grave. And here I was, thinking life was so goddamn simple. But now that I know it’s _complicated,_ yeah, that changes everything. I mean, Christ, can’t you at least give me an honest fucking answer and not, like, a line from a fortune cookie? For real, I want to know how the hell you do the kinds of things you do, and then go and chat with your granddaughter like you just got back from a day at the office.”

“Kid, I don’t know what you want me to say. People are more than one thing at once. It’s not like they flip a switch and go from protagonist to villain or vice versa.”

Jesse considered the statement. He thought he vaguely understood what Mike was getting at, but it didn’t help him any. It would have made things so much easier if you could slot people into clearly demarcated categories. He remembered the words he had once spoken to Mr. White. _I’m the bad guy._ It hadn’t felt good to think about himself in those terms. But it had been simpler. It had exonerated him from the responsibility to do better.

And if you couldn’t even categorize yourself, how the hell were you supposed to know what to make of those around you? How could you recognize the good in a person without justifying the bad? Was that even possible?

“I’m just tired of making excuses,” Jesse said. “For myself. For other people.” 

“I’m not telling you to. You have to live with the choices you make, like each one of us does. My _point,_ if you’ll spare me the sarcasm this time, was that life is complicated, so no one else can make those choices for you. If you’re looking for me or anyone else to tell you what to do, then you’re not going to get what you need.”

They continued down the street, the only sounds an occasional passing car or barking dog. Suddenly Mike asked, “You any good at multiplying and dividing fractions?”

“Fractions?”

“Yeah. That’s the topic in math class this month. Since you’re already here, maybe you could give me the night off by helping Kaylee with her math homework.”

“Are you joking? I suck at math, so yeah, no.” He had managed to help Brock once in a while, but fortunately the kid had still been on addition and subtraction.

“All right. Worth a shot.”

After a couple more blocks, they turned around and headed back toward Stacey’s house. The sky was now black, but the streetlights stood like sentinels along the sidewalk, dutifully fragmenting the darkness.

***

The doorbell rang. It was late, and he had just been about to go upstairs to bed. He was planning to leave early the next morning to visit his restaurant in Las Cruces. It was quite a drive, but every so often he liked to visit the stores located outside of Albuquerque so he could meet in person with the managers.

He opened the door. Jesse stood on the front step, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes cast toward the ground. It had been nearly three weeks since they had last seen each other. Gus hadn’t been expecting him tonight, but he wasn’t necessarily surprised to see him either. After listening to Jesse’s invective at the restaurant, Gus had felt something closer to sorrow than anger, felt a regret so bitter it left an acrid taste in his mouth. Not because he thought he had lost Jesse, but because he knew he would eventually come back. In other words, because he knew the boy’s emotions would continue to fluctuate so wildly that even if Jesse were to throw himself at Gus’s feet and beg forgiveness, it was no guarantee that the very next morning he would not change his mind and repeat the cycle all over again.

And yet, knowing all this, he invited him in, waited for him speak.

“So…” Jesse rubbed the back of his head, clearly feeling awkward. “I just wanted to say... I guess, the other week, I might have… overreacted a little? I don’t know, though. It’s just- it was a lot.”

“What was?” Gus was genuinely unsure what he was referring to. The dinner? But they had eaten dinner together almost every week.

“Like…” His face began to blush. “Like the bath. The romantic dinner shit. All of it. Like, fucking is one thing, but… You know what I mean?” When Gus remained quiet, Jesse went on, “These past couple weeks I- I thought about you non-fucking-stop. But look, that’s not a _good_ thing, okay? I _hate_ it. Because it’s still like… whatever you want from me, I don’t think I can give it to you.”

The words weren’t precisely what Gus wanted to hear, but he could tell Jesse was at least making an attempt to speak honestly. “Why did you come here?” he asked, still unsure if Jesse was trying to reiterate what he had said at the restaurant, or if he was trying to retract it.

“I don’t know. I… I don’t know what to do. Not just about us. About anything. Like, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing with my life.”

Gus nodded slowly. He wanted to reach out and take his hand, but he resisted the urge. “You speak as if I have asked you to make an irreversible decision about your future. Jesse, I never asked you to commit your life to me. But when you are with me, I want all of you. Do you understand?”

“I- Yeah, I guess so.”

“Do you? Because I have no interest in subjecting myself to the vagaries of your emotions. If you are unable to comport yourself in a more balanced manner, then I am in agreement with the sentiment you expressed in Juárez: our interactions should be limited to a professional setting.” 

This was something of a lie. He knew that at this point, regardless of the boy’s behavior, if Jesse offered his body to him then he would accept it. But Jesse did not need to be made aware he had developed such a weakness. Gus found it exceedingly unpleasant to admit even to himself.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” His voice was impatient, but the response was as much as Gus could hope for at the moment.

“As for other aspects of your future, I have a proposal I would like you to consider. You recall that Lydia’s occupation is Head of Logistics at Madrigal, no?”

“Uh, sure.”

“I think you should apply for the position of Logistics Assistant.”

Jesse stared at him, and then began to laugh. “Have you totally lost it? You saw my resume at that job fair. My last real job was, like, as a cashier at Taco Bell. My only education is a failed online class and half a semester of one course at a community college.”

“This is of no consequence. If you would like the position, I can ensure that you will have it. We can fabricate references and records easily enough if necessary. And although you may have to interview with several people, Lydia will have a major say in who will fill the position.” He knew that Lydia wasn’t overly fond of Jesse, but also that she would willingly hire him if Gus requested it.

“Okay, but even if I could _get_ the job, that doesn’t mean I could _do_ it. I barely even know what logistics means.”

“As I said, you would merely fill the role of an assistant. Lydia would train you.”

Jesse just shook his head. “Yeah, I’m sure she would love that. Dealing with a fucking dumbass like me.”

Gus was slightly surprised at Jesse’s tone. He sounded bitter and resigned, as if he was stating a foregone conclusion about his intelligence, or lack thereof. “Jesse, you are not unintelligent. You have faults, of course. You are impulsive and you lack discipline. But these are flaws that can be overcome.” 

Jesse’s brow creased, and he stared at Gus as if trying to assess whether he meant what he had said. Gus couldn’t help but feel it was unfortunate that this was apparently something Jesse had never been told before. It was little wonder he lacked confidence.

“But why do you want me to apply, anyway?”

“This would give Lydia more mobility, in the event she wanted to move on to a different position in the company someday. There are other roles within the organization she could possibly fill that would be useful to me, especially as Peter approaches retirement.”

“More mobility? How so?”

“Obviously, in order to maintain my business, I need someone I can trust as Head of Logistics. With this arrangement, you could one day take over Lydia’s role if necessary.”

Jesse breathed out heavily. “Jesus, that’s… I don’t think- I mean, you have to know that’s not something I’m capable of, right?”

“I am not implying this would happen at any point in the near future. You would have more than enough training by the time a changeover would occur.” He paused, then said, “I understand you are not satisfied with your work as a chemist. This position would give you responsibilities outside the realm of the methamphetamine trade.”

“But… not completely outside of it. I would still be involved.”

“That is correct.”

“I really- I don’t know. How soon do you need to know by?”

“I would say by the end of next month, at the latest. Toward the end of May I will be making a trip to Houston. You can accompany me, and meet with Lydia to discuss matters. She can give you a better understanding of what the work would entail.”

“If I took this job, I’d have to move to Houston. You’d be… okay with that?”

Perhaps it was another question born out of simple curiosity, but the fact that their separation would even occur to him made Gus feel for the first time that it was possible Jesse desired a future where they sustained their relationship. “It’s not terribly far. I imagine we would still be able to meet once a month, at the least.”

Jesse shrugged, stared straight ahead at the opposite wall. They sat beside each other in silence. After a minute or so had passed, Jesse said, “Hey, you got plans tonight?”

“It is 11:30 pm on a Thursday.”

“So, no?”

“No.”

“Then do you… do you want me here? Tonight? I could- I could stay. If you wanted me to.”

It occurred to Gus that he should say no, to punish Jesse for his actions. But the thought almost physically pained him. So he said, “Yes. Let’s go upstairs.”

When they reached the base of the staircase, Gus switched off the living room light. When he turned back around, Jesse placed his hands on either side of Gus’s face, and brought their lips together in a soft kiss. Gus was staggered by the tenderness of the gesture. Jesse had been the one to initiate intimacy before, but always, it seemed to Gus, as an impetuous urge to satiate a physical desire. This felt different. It felt careful, intentional, and for an instant it made him feel as if Jesse were his completely.

But the moment was fleeting. Jesse pulled back, and the expression on his face, illuminated by the pale light of the moon flowing through the window, was one of doubt, as if he had made a choice he already suspected he would regret. The naked uncertainty on his face made him look so very young, and Gus was reminded of the statement he had made to Mike last week. _He is not a child._

At Jesse’s age, Gus had been in the military for eight years, been married for six, had a daughter about to enter primary school. Outwardly his life had possessed far more order than Jesse’s ever had. But at that age Gus had already been jaded by the experiences of his past, and saw the future before him not in the hopeful light of possibility, but in the calculating terms of a series of steps to be completed, a series of obstacles in a cruel world to be overcome. Jesse may have been plagued by uncertainty and indecision, but for all that he still had an openness to him that hadn’t yet been dulled by the trials he had endured. It was a quality that appealed to Gus and also saddened him, because it couldn’t last, nor should it, after all. Resolve was far more important than an open mind or heart.

Gus ascended the staircase, holding the younger man’s hand in his, as if Jesse were a child he needed to lead behind him to keep him from stumbling.

***

When morning came, he experienced a moment of disorientation before remembering where he was. He had never spent the night at Gus’s house before, but he doubted it would be the last time. _I want all of you._ Those had been his words the night before, hadn’t they? Coming from another man, it might have sounded romantic, even cloying. But Gus had almost made it sound like a threat, like Jesse’s soul was an object he could demand be handed over to him. 

Jesse had fallen asleep almost immediately after they had finished fucking, but he had woken in the night, unable to return to sleep for nearly an hour. It was a uniquely lonely feeling, to lie wide awake beside someone deep in sleep, especially in a home not your own. The moon had shone bright enough for Jesse to make out Gus’s features in the darkness, his body so still that on impulse Jesse had reached out a hand to confirm that the other man’s chest was rising and falling.

The space beside him in the bed was now empty, and light was streaming through the windows. He rolled over so he could see the clock. _8:50… Shit._ But even if Gus found out he was late to work, could he really get that pissed given the circumstances? The answer to that, of course, was most likely yes, so Jesse forced himself out of bed and dressed as quickly as he could. 

He knew he didn’t have time to shower, but he rummaged through the drawers in the bathroom to see if he could find a spare toothbrush. He couldn’t, so he took the one from the cup on the sink and used that. Once you’d had someone’s tongue repeatedly in your mouth, it seemed slightly arbitrary to worry about whether or not it was sanitary to share a toothbrush. He then washed his face, and used a paper towel to wipe up the water that had splashed onto the rim of the sink. It wasn’t something he would normally think to stop and do, but he imagined the spatters of water might be the kind of thing Gus would be unreasonably irritated by.

When he got downstairs, he saw that a small envelope had been taped to the inside of the front door. Inside it was a spare key. He locked the door behind him, and headed to his car. He wondered if Gus wanted the key back, or if he had intended for Jesse to keep it. Probably the former. Gus didn’t seem like the type who would want anyone to have the ability to enter his home unannounced. 

Last night had been the first time he had shown up without first being invited. He hadn’t been planning on it; he really had resolved to see Gus only when absolutely necessary. But once he had made that resolution, he had developed a dull ache in his stomach, a sense of loss that he knew was in no way justified, but was present nonetheless. Eventually the feeling had reached an intensity where, almost unthinkingly, he had gotten in his car and found himself driving the route to the man’s house. He knew going back was a mistake. He knew it would only make things harder for himself in the future, that it was only putting off the inevitable choices he would have to make about his life. But for the time being, he _would_ put all of it off. Even if it was just for a matter of months, or even weeks, he would let the weight of those unmade decisions fall from his shoulders. Just for a little while.

When he got to the lab, Lyle had already started setting up without him. “You’re late,” he said.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.” He wasn’t. Gus owed him some sick time by now, for Christ’s sake.

Lyle looked up at the security camera. “We’re being watched, aren’t we? Don’t you worry Mr. Fring might notice and have a problem with it?”

“If he has a problem with it, he should buy a goddamn alarm clock,” Jesse muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you, you don’t gotta call him Mr. Fring. That sounds way too fucking formal. You can call him Gus, it’s not gonna bother him.” He realized the irony of this statement coming from him, given that he had never been able to bring himself to call Mr. White by his first name. But that was different. Mr. White had been his _teacher._

They worked in silence for a period of time, until Jesse suddenly asked, “Hey, how long do you think till you could handle all this without me? Like one month? Two? I might be- I might be moving on soon.”

Lyle frowned. “Yeah, I guess I’d be fine by then, but… you’re leaving? Isn’t part of the reason I’m here to increase production? I thought eventually we would be working separate shifts.”

“Uh… yeah, I’m not sure yet. Forget it.”

For whatever reason, the idea of multiple shifts had never occurred to Jesse, although it made perfect sense. Jesse had always viewed Lyle as his replacement, but Gus had always made it clear he believed Jesse would choose to continue working for him, and therefore must have seen Lyle’s purpose in a different light. So was Gus really willing to give up the increase in production so that Jesse could start a new job in Houston? But as soon as he formed the question, Jesse told himself not to give the man more credit than he deserved. Gus himself had said that having Jesse in the new position would further his own interests. If Jesse chose to leave for any other reason, he had a feeling Gus suddenly wouldn’t be inclined to be so selfless.

But he had told himself he wasn’t going to think about any of that just yet. He shut his eyes tight and rubbed his temples, as if he could crush the thoughts beneath his fingers.


	11. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually watched How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, but I'm assuming it's exactly the same plot as this, maybe minus the meth lab.

_In your eyes, there’s a heavy blue_   
_One to love and one to lose_   
_Sweet divine, a heavy truth_   
_Water or wine, don’t make me choose_

-Selena Gomez

***

Lydia sighed as she stared at his resume. “I’m a little afraid to ask, but what’s TwaughtHammer?”

“Oh, yeah… That’s, uh, a band I was in for a while. I was the drummer,” he said, slightly embarrassed. He had typed up the resume before attending the job fair in December, and he hadn’t edited it at all before printing it out to take with him to their trip to Houston. 

“Okay, now I see. You’ve written drumming under the skills section. Well, I’m sure that will come in use here.”

Under different circumstances Jesse might have been annoyed by the judgement in her voice, but he found that he had quite a bit of sympathy for her. He imagined Lydia’s workload must have been fairly taxing, and instead of being able to hire a competent assistant, she was being asked to hire Jesse, who would just create more work for her given how much training he would require.

She set his resume down, and began detailing what responsibilities the position would involve. He was bored out of his mind before she had even been speaking for a full two minutes. After a while, he let his gaze wander past Lydia and to the view out the window behind her. It was definitely a nice view, but he wondered if it ever made her dizzy, to look down and see people the size of ants scurrying back and forth on the sidewalk below. Personally, if he had to choose, he would rather have an office on the-

“Jesse? What do you think?”

“Oh, uh, sorry, what was that?”

“Are you even listening to me? I said that I usually conduct interviews with at least two other colleagues. You would have to rehearse some decent responses to the typical questions so I wouldn’t look out of my mind for pushing to hire you. I don’t want to have to embarrass myself any more than necessary in this whole process.”

“Yeah, I mean… you might not have to worry about that anyway. I haven’t decided if I’m even gonna apply for the job.”

Lydia looked at him incredulously. “Why on earth would you not apply? Trust me, you’ll never have another opportunity this good with, well, that…” She gestured at his resume. 

“I don’t know. I never really pictured myself working in an office, you know? Stuck behind a desk all day, staring at a computer. It makes people kind of insane, right?”

Lydia, who had been tapping a ballpoint pen rapidly against her keyboard, stilled her hand and looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“I didn’t mean you,” he quickly amended.

“Well, you wouldn’t be behind a desk all day. Like I said, sometimes you would have to visit the warehouse to take inventory.”

“Yeah, great, that sounds _totally_ fascinating.”

Lydia shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. Gus takes the time to fly you out here, I take time out of my schedule to meet with you, and that’s the sort of attitude you have about all this?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure Gus was coming out here anyway, so it wasn’t really that much effort for him to…” Seeing the look on Lydia’s face, he decided to let it go. He understood that from her perspective he was being needlessly petulant, but he had reason to be on edge. His interest level in the particulars of the job was in fact the least of his concerns. If he took this position, it would be equivalent to sanctioning the type of business that Gus and Lydia ran. Not only that, but he would be committing himself to it for the long term. 

“Well, I think we’re done here,” said Lydia, standing up.

Jesse stood up as well, but then turned back to her and asked, “Hey, does your husband know? I mean, about the… kind of work you do.”

“I’m not married.”

“Oh. I guess I assumed there was, like, a Quayle to your Rodarte or whatever.”

“I’m divorced. I’d rather not discuss it,” she snapped, clearly irritated at the personal turn the conversation had taken.

“Okay, okay. I wasn’t planning on begging you for details, Jesus. But look, say you were still married, or… like, I don’t know, say when your daughter gets older, would you be ashamed, do you think? If she knew?”

Lydia stared at him for several moments and then said, “No. I’m not ashamed.”

Jesse got the feeling she was telling the truth. He wondered if this lack of guilt was due to her being too far removed from the effects of her work to comprehend the consequences on a visceral level, or if she just didn’t care. He hoped it was the former. 

***

The restaurant was more crowded than the one they had visited in Juárez, didn’t have the dimmed lighting or panoramic view that had lent to the intimate atmosphere the last time they had eaten out together. This should have put Jesse more at ease, but he found himself wondering self-consciously what the diners seated nearby, or the cheerful waitress who had just poured their drinks, might assume about their connection to each other. 

After his meeting with Lydia, he had gone back to the hotel and switched out of his dress shirt and slacks into his regular clothes, while Gus still wore a full suit and tie. Jesse began to wish he hadn’t changed, so that he would look more like a business associate and less like some male escort Gus had picked up off the street. He shook his head and told himself to stop being so fucking paranoid. 

When the waitress returned, he looked down at the menu and was dismayed to see that every item was written in Italian, with no descriptions beneath in English. It’s not like he could ask Gus for a recommendation after the hard time Jesse had given him about ordering for him at the restaurant in Mexico. Finally he settled on the _pollo parmigiano,_ which he was ninety percent sure was chicken parmesan.

“Tell me, how did your meeting go with Lydia?” Gus asked once their meals had been brought out.

Jesse had been prepared for him to bring this up, but his stomach still flipped at the mention of the purpose for their visit to Houston. He knew Gus would be looking for a definitive yes or no answer about whether he was going to apply for the position, but Jesse was in no way closer to making a decision than he had been weeks ago. The reasons not to take it were obvious enough. But then he thought about the contemptuous way Lydia had gestured to his resume, pointing out what an opportunity this was for him. Maybe she was right. 

Even more significantly, if he refused this job, it would effectively end his employment with Gus, since he had no intention of continuing on much longer as a chemist. And somehow Jesse knew that the endpoint of their personal involvement would coincide with the end of their working relationship. A year ago he would have been ecstatic to never have to see the man again in his life, and six months ago he would have been indifferent about it. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He took a breath and said, “I don’t know. It went fine. But yeah, I don’t know.”

Gus frowned. “You don’t know what? Do you mean to say you still haven’t made a decision?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess. I need more time to think about it.”

“More time? You have had over a month to consider this.”

“Yeah, I- look, can we just not talk about this now, though?”

Gus stared at him, and Jesse looked away uncomfortably. Christ, his eyes could burn through steel. “Jesse,” he said, his exasperation rapidly approaching anger. “Why do you think I brought you here, if not to discuss this subject? Do you not understand that there have already been multiple applications submitted for this position? Lydia has had to refuse prospective assistants while waiting for you to make your decision.”

Jesse desperately tried to think of a way he could diffuse the conversation. He met Gus’s eyes again, and said, “Yeah, I get that, and… I promise, I’ll decide, like, really soon. It’s just, uh, can’t we just, you know, enjoy the evening together? Like, I don’t want to think about work tonight. We don’t really ever get to go places together, right? So I just want to make the most of this time with you. I don’t want to think about anything but us.” He inwardly cringed; maybe that was laying it on a bit too thick. He forced himself to smile, hoping Gus would take what he had said as sincere and not a blatant attempt to get out of the discussion at hand. 

Fortunately, Gus seemed to warm. “I suppose we can leave it until we return home.”

Filled with relief, Jesse was able to enjoy the rest of his meal, and even enthusiastically agreed when Gus suggested they take a walk together through a nearby park after they finished eating. It was a warm evening, and the sky glowed a brilliant orange as the sun began to make its descent. As they walked, Jesse felt a sudden inexplicable swell of joy. It could have been due to the beauty of the evening, the trees lining the pathway, the glittering lights of the city beyond the park. Or maybe it was the sense of possibility that came from being in a new city. Whether or not he took the job, there was still so much out there he hadn’t experienced, so much that he should look forward to rather than dread.

The feeling energized him, made him feel like he was tingling with electricity, and when they paused by a small pond, he impulsively turned to Gus, grabbed his shoulders, and kissed him. As soon as their lips met, Gus pushed him back so roughly that Jesse lost his balance and almost fell to the ground. It might have been slightly melodramatic to say that Gus wore an expression of horror on his face, but it wouldn’t have been far off. “We are in _public,”_ he hissed at Jesse, and then continued walking down the pathway.

Completely nonplussed, Jesse followed after him. “Yo, what’s your problem? There’s hardly any people around. No one was paying attention. And even if they were, why the hell do you care? I mean, I get you need to play conservative businessman in Albuquerque, but what are the chances someone’s gonna recognize you here? Like, trust me, you think I want to get caught making out in public with some guy old enough to be my father? But I thought…” He had thought Gus would be pleased by the sudden display of affection, and his reaction had stung.

Gus ignored him, and Jesse’s irritation increased. “What, are you actually that pissed? Are you embarrassed or something? Or is it, like, your sex life is the same as your work life- it’s only exciting to you as long as you have to keep it a secret?”

“I don’t need to justify myself to you,” he said in a tone the brooked no further discussion. He looked at his watch. “We should return to the hotel. It will be easier to find our way back before it becomes dark.”

Jesse sighed, but decided not to push it any further. Gus was from a different generation, after all. He thought about how Gus had booked them a suite with two separate bedrooms, similar to the one they had stayed in during their last trip to Houston, despite the fact that they would certainly end up sleeping together. He must not have felt comfortable with the idea of checking in at the front desk with Jesse for a room with a single bed. Maybe it was hypocritical to judge him for that, considering how awkward Jesse had felt merely dining together at a restaurant.

By the time they got back to the hotel, Gus’s mood seemed to have returned to normal. After he had washed up and taken off his tie and jacket, he pulled Jesse down onto the bed with him. As they kissed, Jesse began fumbling with the buttons on the other man’s shirt, but when he had gotten the first few undone, he stopped and pulled back. “Hey, uh, what do you think about, like, switching things around tonight?”

Gus looked at him blankly. “Meaning what?”

He must have known what he meant, right? Was he going to make him say it? “Like, you know… I don’t always have to be the one who lies there and takes it. I can put in some of the work sometimes or whatever.” He had never made the request before. He had always assumed Gus would say no. However, as the incident in the park had demonstrated, it wasn’t exactly easy to predict his reactions.

But Gus shook his head. “I would rather not.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Do I need to provide a reason? It is not my preference.”

“For real? Don’t they always say guys who like the most power and control in their everyday lives are the ones who like to get, you know, totally dominated in bed?” Jesse doubted there was any truth to this when it came to Gus, but now that he had brought the topic up, he wanted to see if he could get the man to change his mind.

“And where have you heard that?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Sometimes I used to flip though my girlfriend’s Cosmo magazines back in high school.”

“So your knowledge in this area comes from a publication intended for female adolescents?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. They had some next level shit in there. Like, you would have to be a goddamn contortionist to make it through some of those sex positions of the month.” Gus still looked rather skeptical, so Jesse continued, “Look, I’m not saying it needs to be a regular thing. I just want to try it.”

“You must have experienced this with a woman before.”

“I mean, yeah, once or twice, but…” In actuality, he hadn’t. Despite a rather varied sexual history, none of the women he had dated had been into the idea, and it had never been something he had felt like asking of a hookup. But he definitely didn’t need Gus to know he would be a test subject. “Anyway, it’s different with you.”

“How so?”

Jesse had to take a moment to think about how to put it into words. “Well… because I don’t think it’s just about your ‘preference’ or whatever. I think it’s like, I don’t know, just another thing you always need to have control over. You don’t even want to give me the option because it’s like… you don’t see me as your equal or something.”

The corner of Gus’s lips turned up, as if Jesse had said something amusing. “That is because you are not my equal.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I do not intend it as an insult. Jesse, I am thirty years your senior. I am also your employer. These facts make us inherently unequal, but that does not say anything about your character in and of itself. I am certain, by the time you reach the age I am now, you will have accomplished many great things.”

Receiving words of affirmation from Gus often resulted in a strange internal dissonance, where Jesse felt the rush of pleasure at being praised almost concurrently with the sinking sensation that came with any deeper analysis of the words. The confidence in Gus’s voice when he stated Jesse would attain something significant one day nearly made him lightheaded, as if he had been waiting his whole life to hear the words spoken. But the comment concerned him just as strongly. If Gus believed Jesse would follow the same path to success that he had, then that wasn’t something to eagerly anticipate, and it certainly wasn’t something to feel proud of.

Gus looked at him carefully for a few moments, and then said, “Fine. Tonight we will do as you have asked.”

“Oh… okay, yeah.” Jesse hadn’t been fully prepared for him to agree. As they undressed, Gus slowly folding each item of clothing as he went, Jesse wondered what had made him reconsider. He might have assumed Gus had conceded out of guilt for the aggression he had displayed earlier, but as far as Jesse could tell, it was still up for debate whether the man was even capable of guilt.

“How would you like me?” Gus asked matter-of-factly. 

Suddenly feeling more awkward than he had expected, Jesse said, “I- uh, you know, if you really don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.” 

“I’ve already told you that I’ve agreed. If you no longer feel up to it-”

“I feel _up_ to it, Jesus. Okay, uh… on your back, I guess?” He had pictured this scenario on more than one occasion, and it always involved him fucking Gus from behind as hard as he could, pounding out months of pent-up tension and unresolved frustrations. But at the moment, rather than feeling assertive he felt slightly uncertain, like someone being called upon to perform while being assessed by a panel of judges. He didn’t necessarily care if Gus enjoyed the experience, but there was still something mildly embarrassing about the thought of doing the wrong thing. He knew Gus would most likely remain silent the entire time, so the only way for Jesse to gauge how he was doing would be to occasionally glance at the other man’s face.

Jesse reached for the lube that he had already dug out from the bottom of his suitcase, and Gus lay on his back, legs parted. Jesse’s heart began to pound, which made about zero sense. Why the hell should _he_ be nervous? Gus was now the vulnerable one here, for once.

He followed the same procedure Gus had performed countless times with him, inserting a single finger, then progressing to two, then three. On the third, he said, “Uh… doing okay?” The question wasn’t out of concern so much as disbelief that the other man’s expression hadn’t changed whatsoever. He was so tight, and Jesse wasn’t going particularly slowly; he imagined there must have been some discomfort. But for all Jesse knew the man could have fallen asleep.

“I’m fine. Continue,” he replied, eyes still closed. So Jesse began fucking him with his fingers, pulling out and then pushing back in until they disappeared to the knuckle. When he curled a finger in a certain direction, as he had often felt Gus do for him, he thought he finally got a reaction out of the other man, a sudden faint intake of breath. But he could have imagined it. 

Eventually he poured some more lube into the palm of his hand and rubbed it over his cock. Despite the decent effort he had made at preparing him with his fingers, he still felt the resistance as he began to push inside him. Suddenly the thought struck him that this might have been the first time Gus had let someone do this to him. For some unspecified reason the idea made him incredibly uneasy, and he tried to put it out of his mind. As he pushed in another couple inches, he could tell that Gus had tensed slightly by the way his hands clenched. When Jesse had been in this position for the first time almost half a year ago, he recalled the way he had dug his nails deep into Gus’s skin, as if by causing him pain he could have lessened his own. “You still good?” he asked, irritated with himself for feeling the need to check in when Gus had never shown him the same consideration.

“Yes. Keep going.”

He pushed all the way in. An image briefly floated before his eyes of turquoise tiles shimmering beneath the water as he had submerged himself in the bath that evening in Mexico. He remembered how the warmth of the water had sent a prickling shiver across his skin; a strange yet sublime sensation not completely unlike the one he was overcome with now, as he was enveloped by heat and pressure. 

After a few slow pushes in and out, Gus opened his eyes and said, “You can go harder.” The slow pace hadn’t been for Gus’s benefit, but his own. He was afraid if he went any faster he would finish in about five seconds, which would be less than ideal. But he began gaining force with each thrust, and as his momentum increased, he heard a few breathless words in Spanish escape the other man’s lips. Jesse had no idea what the words meant, but it was the most noise he had ever heard Gus make during sex, so he took it as a good sign. 

Gus then grabbed Jesse’s neck, and pulled him downward until their lips met and tongues entwined. When the kiss broke, Jesse moved his lips to the side of his face, kissing his cheek, then his neck, then pulling back further so he could kiss his chest, suck at a nipple. It was like a dam had been opened and any self-regard he had left was washed away by an overwhelming possessiveness that felt concerningly close to affection.

As he resumed thrusting again, he grasped Gus’s cock in his hand, and after several firm strokes thick streaks of white decorated his chest and stomach. Almost simultaneously, as he felt the other man tighten around him, Jesse emptied himself inside of him. He fell to rest on top of him, chest still heaving, and did nothing but lie prone for several moments. After he had caught his breath, it occurred to him to wonder if Gus would want him to eat him out like he frequently did for Jesse. He pulled out and then hesitantly began to move his head in that direction, but Gus placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “It’s okay.” 

Somewhat relieved, Jesse lay back down beside him and asked, “So how was it?”

“It was adequate,” he responded flatly.

_“Adequate?_ Oh, fuck off. It was better than adequate.” They both lay quietly staring at the ceiling for a few moments, and then Jesse said, “Hey, that wasn’t like… your first time being on that side of things, like, _ever,_ right?”

“No. But it’s been many years.”

“Yeah? Like how long?” 

“I couldn’t say. Over two decades.”

Jesse wasn’t sure why, but the response sent his emotional pendulum swinging all the way from the joy he had experienced earlier that evening at the park to a sorrow so profound he suddenly felt like all of his limbs were weighed down with lead. And even more confusing, he felt a sharp prick of guilt, as if he had just committed a deceitful act. Why? He had never been anything but honest with Gus about how he felt about their involvement. Gus himself had said he didn’t expect Jesse to make any commitment to him. But… that had been a lie on Gus’s part, hadn’t it? If Gus hadn’t viewed their lives as irrevocably intertwined, he would never have let Jesse put him in such a vulnerable position.

For a moment, he tried to imagine what it would be like if he had met Gus under different circumstances, maybe in a reality where he didn’t oversee the largest meth empire in the region, where he hadn’t brutally murdered some unknown number of individuals, where he didn’t value control and efficiency above human life. In that reality, could Jesse see himself continuing a relationship with the man indefinitely? But as soon as he posed the question, he saw how meaningless it was. Trying to picture Gus with such an innocuous identity was like trying to make two plus two add up to five. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend it. He felt the despair spread throughout his body and settle as a heavy weight pressing down on his chest.

Gus turned to him, brought his hand to Jesse’s cheek. “Is something wrong?”

Jesse closed his eyes as the other man continued to stroke the side of his face, and said, “No. Nothing’s wrong.”

***

He drove aimlessly, circling around the same blocks multiple times, no destination, his route as incoherent as his train of thought. After returning that morning from Houston, he had resolved to make a decision by the end of the day, and after pacing around his kitchen and living room for nearly an hour no closer to making any conclusions about what to do, he had thought a change of scenery might help. So far, it hadn’t.

He drove further and further from his house, not paying any particular attention to his surroundings. But when several school buses passed him by, he realized he recognized the area. The junior high school that Jake attended was just a few blocks away. Jesse checked the clock on his dashboard, and confirmed it was around the time school would be getting out. What if he were to stop by, just on the off chance that he could catch Jake and say hello as he was exiting the school? It was so rare for him to be outside of the lab on a weekday afternoon, that the idea had never occurred to him before. He was sure that his parents must have trained Jake to never speak to him again. But it’s not like teenagers were famous for always following their parents’ directions.

He parked his car across the street from the school, and then stood leaning against the tall metal fence surrounding the lawn in front of the building, watching the kids as they left through the front gate. After waiting for ten minutes or so, he decided he was probably starting to look like a creep, and had better leave before a teacher or parent confronted him. But just as he was about to walk away, he spotted Jake starting down the sidewalk with a couple other boys. “Hey, Jake!” he called out. Jake stared at him blankly, and for a horrible moment Jesse thought the kid might not recognize him. But it hadn’t been _that_ long.

After a few seconds, Jake said something to the two boys he was with, and they continued on without him. “What are you doing here?” he then asked Jesse. He didn’t sound accusatory, but he didn’t sound especially excited to see him either.

“I don’t know. I was in the area and just thought maybe we could catch up a little. Get a burger or something.”

“I was just going down the street to buy a soda. I have to get back for Latin Club.”

_“Latin Club?_ I thought you were into band or some shit like that. When are you gonna go somewhere they speak Latin, huh? You can blow off one day.”

Jake looked over his shoulder, like he was paranoid their parents would suddenly appear out of nowhere, but then he shrugged. “Fine.”

They got in Jesse’s car and drove to the nearest diner. Once seated, Jesse realized he had no idea what to say. But Jake was the first to break the silence. “You know… it really was pretty cool what you did for me last time you came around. I mean taking the blame for the joint.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, my relationship with mom and dad already sucked, so I guess it wasn’t that big a deal. Anyway, you don’t smoke much anymore, right?”

“Not that much, but does it really matter? I get straight A’s whether I do or not.”

“I guess. But you’re kind of young for that shit. I mean, you don’t want to end up like me.” As soon as he said it, he was annoyed with himself for lecturing the kid right out of the gate. He knew from experience that older people ordering you what not to do rarely made a difference anyway. But the impulse to advise him was still there, as strong as if he were talking to himself twelve years ago.

“End up like you?” Jake said, sounding skeptical at the notion. “Did you use to make the honor roll before you started smoking weed?”

“Uh… no. No, I was never on the honor roll.”

They ate in silence for several minutes. Well, Jesse ate, and Jake picked unenthusiastically at his fries. To be fair, it was only 3:00. Finally, forcing the words out of his mouth with an almost physical effort, he asked, “So… how are they? Mom and dad.”

“Fine, I guess.” Jake looked up from his plate, and then said, “I know… I know they won’t let you come over anymore. But I think they feel bad about it. I mean about whatever happened.”

Jesse highly doubted this. And even if it were true, it didn’t change what they had done. But he couldn’t help asking, “What makes you think so?”

“I don’t know. I guess sometimes I’ll see dad standing in the hallway upstairs looking at the photos on the wall. The old ones, with just you and mom and dad before I was born. And I mean, not just looking, but like staring, for a long time. Or… like sometimes mom will come out of her room and her eyes will be red, like I can tell she’s been crying.”

“Well, maybe if they were gonna feel so bad about it, they shouldn’t have treated me like shit and cut me out of their lives,” Jesse said, more aggressively than he had intended. He had spoken loudly enough that the woman sitting at the table across from theirs glanced over at them. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Jake shook his head, seemingly unfazed. “It’s okay. I’m not trying to defend them. But you know, it’s not like they never cared about you. I told you before, as long as I can remember you were all they ever talked about. Sometimes I thought I _should_ get caught smoking or something, because that way they’d have something new to worry about and I could get a break from hearing them go on and on about you.”

“So they spent a lot of time venting about how much I pissed them off? How touching.” Jesse had no interest in attempting empathy for his parents. But suddenly he imagined a reality where he had stayed together with Andrea, and he asked himself what he would do if Brock reached high school and got into the same shit Jesse had. He would like to think he would provide unconditional support, no matter how bad things got. Giving up on your own kid was unforgivable, wasn’t it? But watching your child go through that… it would be hard. So fucking hard.

After staring at his empty plate for a while, Jesse said, “I don’t know. I guess it wasn’t always easy for them. It just kind of sucks, everything that happened. But I mean, I’m not one of those resentful bastards who blames everything that went wrong in their life on their family or whatever. Like, I know I got myself where I am, more or less. I hope that’s something you never have to deal with- to not only have your life turn to total shit, but also have to look in the mirror everyday and know you’re the one responsible.” He looked up, saw Jake staring at him uncertainly. “Hey, uh, sorry. I really just wanted to catch up. I didn’t mean for it to get this heavy.”

Once again, Jake shook his head at the apology. “No, it’s fine. But I don’t really get it. I mean I don’t get why it’s that bad, to know you’re responsible for the way your life is. Like, if not, wouldn’t it mean you don’t have control over any of it? Or like… do you mean you only want to take credit for the good stuff, and not have to be responsible for the bad? But that doesn’t really make sense.”

“No, that’s not- I don’t know. Yeah, I don’t know.” He tried to think of a lighter subject. “Hey, next month you’re graduating junior high, right? You looking forward to high school? I mean, I hated it, but I’m sure you’ll do great.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” He paused. “So what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Yeah, what are you doing? Are you working somewhere or something?”

Jesse considered telling him he worked at a laundry or for Los Pollos Hermanos. But for some reason the thought of lying tired him. So he responded, “Yeah, nothing that interesting. I’m not… I’m not doing much.”

Jake didn’t inquire further. After Jesse paid the bill, Jake said, “Can we head back to the school now? I usually get a ride home from a friend in Latin Club. I don’t want him to leave without me.”

“Yeah, sure.”

He dropped Jake off by the front gate of the school, and they gave each other a brief wave goodbye. Jesse watched him as he walked across the school lawn, bounded up the stairs, and disappeared into the building. He sat parked in front of the school for several more minutes, and then began to drive. This time he knew where he was going.


End file.
